Petal in the Rain
by pratty-prongs-princesse
Summary: Entrapped in a snobbish boarding school, Lily Evans mischievously escapes for one night, fatefully encountering London's most eligible bachelor, Lord James Potter. Set in 1940 during the Battle of Britain. A story of love, war, magic and deception.
1. Chapter 1

Petal in the Rain

* * *

Chapter 1- The Many Winged Escape

"_Freedom is never dear at any price. It is the breath of life. What would a man not pay for living?"_

-Ghandi

* * *

_London, 1940_

As the morning sun broke over the horizon and threw into sharp perspective the city of London, a young girl with sizzling red hair sighed deeply from her attic perch in one of the city's many boarding schools, less than enthused that another day had dawned. She toyed with a small locket that delicately hung around her neck as she peered out of her room's only window, lazily watching as people began to fill the cobbled streets outside. She wondered—as she did every morning—what it would feel like to have the ability to come and go as she pleased, a free citizen of the British Empire.

_St. Madeline's Academy for Girls...my gilded cage_.

Lily Evans, a bright girl of seventeen, sighed aloud, dread beginning to flower in her abdomen as she anticipated the arrival of the school's headmistress—a wretched woman by the name of _Sister Agatha. _Sister Agatha, a nun who Lily had despised ever since their first meeting, routinely arrived at her door step to escort her to the day's studies, keen on ensuring her imprisonment. The path to the dining room from her attic abode was a long one, and Lily had—on more than one occasion—diverted from the established route.

_To think I would have made it out the door if the cook hadn't spotted me…_

"Right on time." Lily murmured sadly when she heard torrential footsteps sound on the creaking staircase that led up to her humble dwellings. She flinched when loud pounding reverberated on her door and a booming voice shook the remnants of her attic bedroom.

"Get up, wench! _Up_!" a severely hot and bothered nun demanded vociferously, hacking on the attic door repeatedly, "_Don't you make me come in there!_"

"_Coming,_ _Sister_!" Lily cooed sweetly, sarcasm evident in the voice that, when cheerful, sounded more like wind chimes on a breezy summer's day, "Just straightening my uniform skirt!"

"_Hurry up, _child! I shall double your dish time if you make me wait much longer, mark my words!" Sister Agatha impatiently spat from behind the wooden door.

Instead, Lily mocked the nun's words, screwing up her face unpleasantly as she imitated the old woman in her cracked mirror. Satisfied with her impertinence, she pulled on her rumpled school uniform, tied her hair back into a messy bun, and roughly pushed open her attic door, taking into account the nun's close proximity to it.

"_Ooff_—_ouch__!_" Sister Agatha shouted brutishly, clutching her tender nose in agony, "_Stupid girl__!_"

"_Oh my_! I am _so_ dreadfully sorry, Sister, I had no idea you were so close to the door." Lily announced innocuously, trying to conceal the grin that threatened to creep onto her porcelain face. Once she squelched the laughter that threatened to burst from her lungs, she wiped her eyes and took in the appearance of the nun—a sight which always caused her to wince.

Sister Agatha was, overall, an unpleasant looking beast. The woman possessed beady little eyes that were hidden beneath bushy eyebrows and sprouted dark facial hair that appeared just above her top lip—two features which made her look like a walrus in need of a shave. Apart from being abnormally large and boorish, Agatha was also distinguished by her hazel, hawk-like eyes and platinum blonde hair, which she always kept slicked back in a tight bun with cheap axle grease. Though dressed in dark convent robes—clothing usually associated with kindly old nuns—she remained an intimidating sight for any to behold.

_They say man was made in God's image, but I refuse to go to heaven if he looks like that…_

"You are going _straight_ to purgatory on judgement day, you little demon!" the nun heralded vindictively, grabbing Lily by the collar of her white blouse and marching her down the mangy stairs into one of the Academy's many overly-furbished corridors as she used her other hand to clutch her swollen nose.

"I'll meet you there." Lily retorted shortly, annoyed by how brusquely she was being escorted to breakfast: She knew bruises were forming on her neck where the nun was pinching her skin.

"_How ridiculous__! _I am a servant of God_:_ He shall welcome me into heaven with open arms!" Sister Agatha pronounced convincingly, turning a corner sharply so that Lily's shoulder slammed against the angle, "If you don't _shape up_, girl, you'll have more than _His_ wrath to deal with, do you hear?"

"What would your God say if he knew how you were treating one of his beloved children?" Lily snapped in frustration, her eyes burning rebelliously as pain pulsated in her shoulder.

"_You belt up__!_" Sister Agatha demanded menacingly, opening the double doors to the dinner hall and roughly releasing Lily's collar, "Now getout of my sight before I throw you into detention for your _insolence_."

"My pleasure." Lily bitterly muttered under her breathe; she wasted no time getting away from the butch of a nun, disappearing into a sea of girls dressed in white and navy blue as she headed toward a table near the back of the hall.

The Academy dining hall was spacious and grand, housing row upon row of tables and boasting a beautiful antique chandelier which acted as the cynosure of the room. Everything was impeccably clean; the marble floors were meticulously waxed, the windows were spotless, and the white table linens were freshly pressed and laundered. Near the front of the hall was the marvellous buffet of assorted breakfast foods.

Lily cringed when she took a seat at her table. She hated everything about St. Madeline's Academy for Girls; every room, every textbook, every _teacher_...even the food was horribly conceited. The thought of having to attend the snobby institution depressed her significantly; everything made her want to scowl.

Everything, that is, except her best mate, Roxanne.

"It's about time you showed up!" Roxanne complained loudly, scrunching up her nose in exasperation when Lily plopped down next to her, "I'm bloody starving!"

"Would you calm down? You get so grumpy when you haven't eaten!" Lily alleged, chuckling at the only person that kept her sane in the corrupt and crooked association she called home, "I'm late because Sister _Hagatha_ was giving me another speech about how fast I'm going to burn in hell."

"Ah, yes. I would pay good money to see that woman set on fire." Roxanne commented lightly, nonchalantly tucking her long, russet hair behind her ears as she poured herself a glass of water, "At least hell would be more pleasant then here though, am I right?"

Lily snorted in her freshly-squeezed orange juice, attempting to stop herself from spewing out the liquid due to her laughter. Lily and Roxanne had been best mates since the beginning of school, both having a lust for trouble and a knack for finding it. Roxanne was the only girl in St. Madeline's who had ever accepted Lily or bothered to befriend her—something she would always be thankful for.

_If it wasn't for her there's no telling where I'd be…_

From the very beginning of her school career, Lily had stuck out from the sea of wealthy blondes and brunettes. It wasn't just her lovely locks, her unusual eyes or her insubordinate attitude; it was because of her unorthodox past.

St. Madeline's Academy held a prestigious reputation within academic and patrician society: It was a fine all-girls institution (with a _hefty_ tuition) meant to cultivate the ideal noblewoman, a girl of higher education and perfect etiquette that, in turn, would marry a wealthy aristocrat and enjoy the pleasures of high society. As such, all the girls in attendance at St. Madeline's had considerable amounts of cash—a rarity during the war—and proud parents who gladly backed their daughter's education with funding.

Everyone, that is, except Lily Evans.

"Lily? When was the last time you washed your blouse?" Roxanne inquired curiously, noticing a yellowing stain on Lily's sleeve.

"Last week. Sister Agatha insists that I have already used up to much water. I'm now limited to one wash a week." Lily muttered, stuffing bits of poached egg into her mouth and frowning.

"_Bollocks_! Give me some of your dirty clothing tonight and I'll have them washed with mine." Roxanne ordered more than offered, pursing her lips together obstinately, "Agatha has really been pushing the limit with you lately."

"I suppose...and thanks, it would be better if I didn't stink up the entire school." Lily joked light-heartedly, doing her best to ignore Agatha's discriminatory practices, "Perhaps I should throw my dirty laundry into Sister Agatha's office...see how she enjoys the stench."

"I would hold off on that plan until you _really_ reek." Roxanne suggested cheekily.

A large, clanging bell echoed loudly in the dining hall, alerting the girls that it was time for classes. As Lily and Roxanne collected themselves by straightened out their kilts and fixing their hair, a large group of girls strutted by their table, each with a superior smile plastered on their smug face.

"_Oh, look ladies!_ It's the brunette _whore_ and her little _orphan_ friend! Don't look into their eyes, we might all turn to stone!" the ringleader of the group proclaimed dramatically, conceitedly smirking at Lily and Roxanne as she brushed past them and left the hall, her sniggering posse loyally following in her perfumed wake.

"Do I have snakes in my hair? I think Acantha may have just mistaken me for the Greek villainous, Medusa." Lily announced contemptuously, rolling her eyes at the pathetic attempt to insult the duo; it was not the first time Acantha had bullied the girls.

"I can check that for you." Roxanne affirmed, riffling through Lily's hair for any signs of wildlife as she batted her away in annoyance, "You are reptile free, my dear."

"_Alleluia_." Lily muttered.

To Lily, Acantha was almost more intolerable then Sister Agatha. The Greek beauty was the most popular girl at St. Madeline's school, largely due to the fact that she belonged to one of the richest merchant families in Europe. She had long brown hair that cascaded around her shoulders in perfect ringlets, a prominent, sculpted nose that looked like it belonged on a Greco statue, and piercing black eyes that were often found glaring viciously at Lily and Roxanne—the only two girls that didn't worship the ground she walked upon. Acantha had taken an immediate dislike to Lily when she had first started at the school, often poking fun at the fact that Lily was—indeed—an orphan.

"And who is she calling a whore?" Roxanne whispered fiercely to Lily once the group of girls had departed from the dinner hall, "If she's anything like her loose mother, _she's_ the hussy. I heard a rumour her mother was a prostitute before she met her wealthy father…"

Lily never cared for gossip concerning the aristocracy—something Roxanne had always had a taste for, as her family was also nobility.

"Just ignore the brat. Did you know that her name means "thorny" in Greek?" Lily commented intelligently, chuckling to herself, "I was looking up how to curse in Latin and came across the meaning."

"Really? We should start calling her _thorny arse_ then." Roxanne proclaimed determinedly, a smile spreading across her red lips, "She certainly acts like she has one shoved up there, that's for sure."

"Roxanne!" Lily giggled quietly, entering her first class of the day with her best friend by her side.

The duo proceeded to their assigned desks at the back of the sterile classroom and took a seat. Lily pulled her geography textbook out of her bag and slammed it down on her desk, studying the book's title lackadaisically. Sister Marietta taught first period geography, and it was—by far—the most boring class she was enrolled in.

Lily usually vegetated in all of her classes, uninterested in her lessons or the dreadfully boring nuns that aimlessly taught in scripted monotones; however, despite her refusal to pay attention, Lily was top of every class. As she was confined to her attic bedroom without anything to amuse herself with during the night (an arbitrary rule of Agatha's that Roxanne defied by sneaking her the occasional magazine or newspaper), Lily had taken to reading and memorizing her textbooks—acts which resulted in her extensive acquisition of knowledge and her mastery of almost every academic subject offered at the school. In essence, boredom and natural intelligence had rendered Lily the top scoring student at St. Madeline's—a fact she could care less about.

"See you next period, then." Lily murmured to Roxanne, piling her textbook and notebook up on her desk and resting her head on the hard pile, hoping to catch a few winks before Arithmetic...

"MS. EVANS! STRAIGHTEN UP AT ONCE!" Sister Agatha exclaimed gruffly, immediately interrupting Lily's catnap.

In astonishment, Lily bolted into an upright position. Every girl in the class turned to look at her dishevelled, bleary-eyed appearance, most tittering or shaking their heads snobbishly.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Lily demanded in tired confusion, grimacing at the horrid nun staring intently in her direction.

"DO _NOT_ SPEAK OUT OF TURN, MS. EVANS!" the nun shouted shrilly, her facial pigmentation turning an anomalous red shade, "_Put up your hand if you wish to address me_."

Sister Agatha did not tolerate poor behaviour from any of her pupils, _especially_ Lily Evans. She strived to be perceived as an intimidating, God-fearing administrator in the eyes of her students—something she found difficult to achieve in the red head's witty presence. Sister Agatha therefore came down on Lily harder than any other student—a fact all parties were aware of, and Lily was adamantly proud of.

Lily scoffed irritably and put her hand up: She was in no mood to be virtuous and upright.

"Now, to begin today's lesson." Sister Agatha began, ignoring Lily's persistence and bringing the classes' attention to a sepia map on the blackboard, "Who can tell me—?"

"Are you _blind_, Sister? I have a question." Lily called out sassily, waving her hand about wildly to try and get the aggressive nun's attention.

"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT—?" the nun started furiously, turning around the face the girl.

"You clearly stated that I had to put up my hand before speaking. So, I have, and I have a pressing question that must be answered immediately!" Lily cried stubbornly, proving to be a challenge.

"What is your _question_?" Sister Agatha demanded angrily, steam practically spouting from her ears as she relented to the obstinate redhead.

"Where is Sister Marietta?" Lily asked simply, a smile threatening to twitch on her face.

"I will not answer such an _insignificant_ and _belligerent_ question." Sister Agatha said harshly, closing her eyes in order to try and regain control of her anger, "Now, be _quiet_."

Lily and Roxanne sent each other disgusted looks, knowing class would be even more abysmal than usual.

It was going to be a bad, _bad_ day...

* * *

As the large nun continued to rant and rave about different rock and soil types an hour later, Lily's thoughts drifted back to what Acantha had said to her and Roxanne earlier at breakfast.

Lily had been called an 'orphan' numerous times before, and many of those who used the term intended it to be derogatory. The term was meant to evoke sadness rather than embarrassment, but in high society it was just that: an embarrassment. It wasn't logical, and she knew better, but the term had begun to carry a degree of shame for Lily; it meant she had been abandoned—was purposely deserted without money or a history to call her own. She knew it was stupid of her to care what the other girls thought of her, but after nearly eight years of name-calling, she couldn't help thinking less of herself because of it.

_Unwanted by even my parents..._

As Lily understood it, her mother and father had disappeared when she was very young, leaving her on the doorstep of an orphanage just after her first birthday. Having no other relatives or siblings, Lily had remained there until she was ten. Then, miraculously, she had been plucked out and sent to St. Madeline's, the most expensive all-girls institution in London. Social workers had told Lily that her parents had arranged for her to be sent to the school when she was born—a detail which bothered Lily to no end, for she had never been given the impression that her parents were rich.

In truth, Lily wanted nothing more than to leave St. Madeline's; however, she was legally stuck in the awful school until she was eighteen. Her only consolation was that she'd be free come November.

"Ms. Evans, kindly recite the alphabet to me in French." Sister Agatha snapped suddenly, noticing Lily's vacant, daydreaming expression and pouncing like a hungry lioness.

Lily groaned, wondering why it was the nun's mission in life to try and humiliate her whenever possible.

_Funny how she often ends up looking like the fool..._

"I thought we were learning geography? I think you're beginning to go a bit loony in your old age, Sister." Lily retorted easily, though she was bitter she had to return to reality.

A few girls in the class gasped at the disrespectful comment; Roxanne stifled a smile.

"RECITE THE ALPHABET IN FRENCH, _NOW_!" Sister Agatha demanded loudly, waddling over to her desk and pulling out a long strap of leather, which she menacingly stroked with one of her stubby fingers, "DO AS I SAY, GIRL!"

Lily simply rolled her eyes: She wasn't afraid of a little physical pain.

"I was under the impression we spoke English... why recite it in French?"

"I WILL STRAP YOU, EVANS, MARK MY WORDS!"

"Someone is in need of some anger management." Lily murmured to Roxanne, causing her best mate to giggle and tears to form in her eyes.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY—?" the nun started, the vein in her forehead pulsing in a sinister way.

"A, B, C," Lily started, pronouncing each letter correctly with contempt evident in her soft intonation.

Once Lily was finished with her recitation, she proceeded to the front of the classroom and had the palms of her hands whipped with Agatha's thick, buckskin strap. She did not flinch, moan in pain or complain; instead, Lily simply took her seat once more and whispered to a sympathetic-looking Roxanne: "Is that the best the old bag can do?"

* * *

Classes that day were, as Lily and Roxanne had predicted, dreadfully dreary. Sister Agatha had made it a point to discipline Lily for the most menial of things throughout the day, searching for any excuse to slash her whip across her hands, while Acantha hissed insults at Lily and Roxanne whenever possible, putting in more effort than usual.

Lily and Roxanne therefore spent their supper cursing Sister Agatha and Acantha, the reasons for their unhappiness at St. Madeline's. To vent their frustrations, Roxanne childishly flung peas in Acantha's hair for the duration of dinner—giggling every time she shrieked and searched for the perpetrator—while Lily _accidentally_ spilled the entire contents of a pepper shaker into Sister Agatha's tea. Both felt comforted when the nun took a swig and spat out the hot liquid, causing herself great humiliation in the process.

"I have double dish duties tonight thanks to that harpy, but I was thinking...maybe I could nick some crisps from the kitchen while I'm there and we could have a little party in the attic?" Lily covertly suggested to Roxanne as they exited the dinner hall.

"_That sounds brilliant!_ We could certainly use some fun after the day we just had." Roxanne said eagerly, her rosy cheeks flushing with sudden excitement, "I'll meet you at ten once the girls are sleeping."

"Good plan. Agatha comes to check on me at nine, so take the alternate route to the attic so you don't encounter her on the way." Lily said, grinning as her impish eyes danced excitably.

"I'll see you then. Try and nick some drinks too, if you can!" Roxanne exclaimed before heading toward her room, her brown hair flung over her shoulders as she sauntered away.

Lily headed for the kitchens, feeling happy despite the mountain of dirty dishes that awaited her. When she opened the kitchen door she found she wasn't the only one on dish patrol that night, for two younger schoolgirls were already there, chattering frantically together whilst washing a teetering pile of tea cups. Taking no interest in the girls, Lily begrudgingly started rinsing a pile of dishes further away from the gossiping females; however, as the adolescent girls were talking rather loudly, it was utterly impossible for her not to eavesdrop.

"Did you hear about the big party going on at the Potter mansion tonight?" the fair-haired girl asked her friend importantly, "It's the talk of the town!"

"_Of course_ I've heard about it! All the rich and famous Brits will be there for Lord James Potter's birthday!" the other girl squealed, batting her eyelashes stupidly.

"Imagine _we_ were invited? Think of the fun we would have! There'd be champagne, caviar, famous guests, and _dashing Lords_ asking to fill our dance cards!"

"I would kill my best friend if it meant I could go! I bet there will be many wealthy gentlemen looking for their _future brides _in attendance, and—"

Lily stopped listening after a while, not at all interested in hearing about some old geezer's birthday party. Lily imagined Lord James Potter to be a rich, self-interested _fop_ only concerned with fame and money. She thought he probably had a beautiful trophy wife and several undisclosed mistresses—all of whom only put up with his withered body and bad temper because of his truck-loads of money—as well as a small brood of spoiled children that resented him for withholding their trusts.

_I've made him sound like a Jane Ayer character..._

Lily giggled to herself, though the other girls didn't hear her, having already finished up their washing. Realizing she was alone, Lily buckled down to get the rest of her dishes finished. As she worked she found the fluorescent lights bothersome; she'd always preferred natural light over imitation light, especially since she wasn't allowed outside often...

As the unsettling silence began to unnerve her, Lily decided to end her punishment early while no one was there to tell her otherwise. She shoved a pile of dirty plates she was too tired to complete into a random cupboard and—before exiting the kitchen—snagged a few bags of crisps, biscuits, and (to her great delight) a small bottle of port.

Lily left the kitchen and flicked off the lights, heading for the attic. She was the only student in the school who did not receive a room; but, as her parents were dead, nothing could be done about it. Sister Agatha was intent on ostracizing her from the rest of the girls, believing her unworthy of the school and the respect that only _nobles_ deserved. Roxanne once offered to have her parents step in to rectify her treatment, but Lily had fervently rejected any such help. In truth, she did not mind the attic, for it was away from the bitching female population and as well as the nuns who usually patrolled the halls: Much more mischief could be concocted within its walls.

When Lily finally reached her dusty sanctuary, she hid her food parcels and alcohol under her pillow, taking precautionary measures in case a nun unexpectedly entered her room. There weren't many other places to hide the food as the attic was near empty; it contained only a wobbly bed made of brass that was placed against one of the walls, directly below the only window, and an old carved trunk.

"_Lily? Are you there?_" a familiar, disembodied voice whispered from behind her wooden door.

"_Come in!_" Lily called softly, opening the door and hurrying a pyjama-clad Roxanne inside the attic, "_Quickly now!_"

"It's so dark in here…can we light a candle?" Roxanne inquired sceptically, settling down on Lily's bed as if it was her own.

"Don't be ridiculous, Agatha will catch us if we do that."

"_Fine_. I guess we'll just have to make do with the light of the moon. _How romantic_." Roxanne murmured sarcastically, pulling out a bag of crisps from underneath Lily's pillow and ripping open the package.

"Did you happen to see what else is under my pillow?" Lily asked coyly, changing into her holey nightgown while Roxanne snacked on the goodies.

"You brought soda?" Roxanne asked curiously, pulling out a bottle and squinting at its label.

"Look closer."

"PORT!" Roxanne yelped in a mixture of shock and excitement, "How on _earth_ did you manage—?"

"Keep your voice down!" Lily scolded comically, plopping down beside Roxanne and pulling out the cork, "Now, what shall we drink to?"

"To Sister Agatha!" Roxanne exclaimed proudly.

"_I won't drink to that_!" Lily spat in horror, nearly tearing the bottle away from her best friend.

"I wasn't finished!" Roxanne continued, "To Sister Agatha...may she watch you and I ascend to heaven while she _burns_ in the depths of hell!"

"HERE, HERE!" Lily girlishly bellowed, taking the neck of the bottle firmly in her hand and drinking the bitter liquid heartily.

"How is it?" Roxanne asked anxiously, her eyes alit with enthusiasm.

"_Superb_!" Lily exclaimed, smacking her lips together and wiping her mouth off with the sleeve of her nightgown, "My legs already feel numb!"

"Well, give me a try, then!" Roxanne demanded, taking the bottle from Lily and pouring the liquid down her throat too quickly.

"Bottoms up!" Lily whispered, giggling as Roxanne slopped port down the front of her expensive silk dressing gown like an amateur.

"Darn it!" Roxanne muttered before she burst into pleasant laughter.

Lily and Roxanne talked and sipped port for most of the night, sharing secrets, creating plans and talking about life after school. Though they both felt tipsy, neither friend got knackered, both eager to save some port for their next night's endeavours.

"I should be going, it's getting late. See you in the morning, Lils." Roxanne said between yawns as she launched herself off Lily's bed and scampered out of the attic.

As soon as Roxanne had left the musty loft, Lily felt oddly alone. The night had been great fun, and Lily was reluctant to have it end. As she sat on her bed and gazed into the sky, she noticed it was starting to cloud over, the stars no longer shining to their fullest potential. She sighed, dreamily looking out into the distance.

Then, very suddenly, something caught her eye: Bright party lights shone in the distance, flickering through the wet mist and dark chimney smoke. As she leaned forward, palms pressed against the window to get a better look, she also heard a mixture of music and chortling hovering in wet atmosphere. Lily opened her window as wide as it would go, intrigued by the sights and sounds, then stuck her upper body out of it, her elbows leaning on the windowsill. The cool air nipped at her exposed skin as she listened to the musical compositions and distant laughter.

_I wonder where it's coming from?_

Lily listened to the dreamlike sounds for a while before finally deciding to turn in. As she pulled her head back into the attic, something caught her eye: There, creeping up the stone wall of the academy like an exotic snake, was a long, thick vine. Extending upwards past the attic window, Lily realized its elongated body also reached the very bottom of the building, where it conveniently gathered at the grassy ground.

_This is my chance..._

Lily became overwhelmed with exhilaration: She desperately wanted to follow the music, and suddenly she was presented with a way to do so. Lily knew all she had to do was climb down the vine and she would be free to do as she pleased. She rationed she wouldn't get caught leaving, either, as all the nuns were peacefully sleeping at such a late hour; however, she still felt uneasy about going.

_What if I fall? What if I get caught by a constable?_

Lily was in a state of indecision for only a moment before she made up her mind: She was going.

"What am I going to wear?" Lily inquired aloud to herself, her nerves beginning to flare, "I can't very well roam the streets in my nightgown, and I'll only bring unwanted attention if I wear my uniform..."

Then it occurred to Lily: When she was first banished to the attic nearly eight years ago, she had found a trunk...a trunk containing old, informal dresses and tunics.

Lily tiptoed across the attic and flung open the aged trunk, pulling out the first laced dress she laid her hands upon and examining it critically. It was quite old—of that she was sure—for the gown had a built-in corset and laced up the front. Lily begrudgingly put on the corset and fastened the ties. The dress was very tight—Lily struggling to breathe in it—but she thought it was well worth the exertion. After slipping on the Victorian dress and buttoning up the back, Lily examined herself in the mirror and cringed: The bust was _dangerously_ low; so low, in fact, that her pink nipples were at risk of exposure.

"I better lace up the front firmly." Lily muttered uncomfortably, regretting the amount of cleavage she was revealing, "_Ergh_...at this rate I might as well just walk around nude."

The red head closed the trunk softly before returning to the window. Mustering all the courage she possessed, Lily grabbed hold of the vine and began awkwardly climbing down the wall. It was a struggle at first, but once she got a good grasp Lily easily scooted down the plant. She let go of the vine once she was close enough to the ground, gracelessly falling to her knees.

"There's no turning back now." Lily muttered, getting up off the ground and brushing herself off as she set out along the boulevard for a night she would never forget.

* * *

Author's Notes

James is coming up in the next chapter, and I promise he will be quite dashing :)

Please continue to read & review!

-pratty-prongs-princesse

PS…enjoying the story so far? "Like" Petal in the Rain by pratty-prongs-princesse on Facebook to receive commentary from the author, an in-depth look at characters and chapters, material from upcoming chapters, and to interact with fellow fans!


	2. Chapter 2

Petal in the Rain

* * *

Chapter 2- Music of the Night

_Close your eyes; surrender to your darkest dreams.  
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before.  
Close your eyes; let your spirit start to sore…_

_...And you'll live as you've never lived before._

-Andrew Lloyd Weber

* * *

As the alluring redhead daringly strolled down one of London's paved boulevards, the stormy skies unfastened and permitted a soft rain to drive down on the English landscape. Lily meekly ducked under one of the many maple trees lining the street, instinctually shielding herself from the downpour; however, she secretly longed to dance in the rain like a liberated nymph, allowing the water to caress her porcelain skin and drench her clothing.

_Untamed at last…_

The sound of rain-drops mingled with the charming concerto harmoniously playing in the distance, creating—in Lily's mind—the perfect night on the town. It then occurred to her; why shouldn't she rumba about in the rainwater, or foxtrot in the utter frivolity? For once in her life, she was free to do anything...to be hasty and impulsive, irrational and unconventional...and she wasn't going to waste a moment of it.

Lily took a colossal leap from underneath her large maple tree, taking extra care to splash in an increasing pool of water collecting at her feet. She laughed, feeling invigorated.

_Emancipated from the chains that constricted me..._

Lily continued gravitating toward the music, curiosity compelling her to find where it was drifting from. Her soaked body shivered, and goose bumps began to appear along her arms, but it didn't matter; her emotional elation was far more dominant than her physical discomfort.

As the rain continued to pour, Lily continued to dance along the perimeter of the deserted street. She happily watched herself place one foot in front of the other for a while, pretending she was balancing on a circus high-wire, but her gaze soon wavered, instead fixating upon corpulent, wrought-iron gates which encompassed the grandest mansion she had ever seen.

_Oh my word…_

A perfect structure in every way, the grand estate boasted many luxurious features, including sweeping gardens which sported posh fountains and extravagant, exotic floral arrangements, and three fishing ponds. The focal point of the property was, naturally, the Victorian dwelling located in the center of the property, attractively characterized by impeccable gingerbread railing, gothic stain-glass windows, and tall bricked-chimneys.

"How anyone could be _that_ wealthy is beyond me…" Lily murmured derisively, though she regarded the beautiful quarters with an awe-struck gawk and parted lips.

The mansion was certainly where the music was drifting from; a fact that seemingly left her at a dead-end. Uninterested in ending her night so soon, Lily looked longingly past the austere gates which prevented trespassers from entering the grounds: She sought to explore the estate grounds, but wondered how she was going to gain entrance.

_I've already climbed down a vine...why not climb over a fence?_

"I'm going to get arrested for this." Lily whispered anxiously, daringly clutched the cold iron once she had made her final decision.

With that, she grasped the formal, hard metal of the gate before her and started to ascend upwards. Why she was even attempting to climb the gate, she did not know, but she reckoned that if there were ever a moment to be brave and adventurous, it was then.

_Jail is preferable to St. Madeline's anyways..._

"OUCH!" Lily suddenly exclaimed stridently, cursing under her breath as she realized she had not only scraped her elbow, but also ripped a small portion of her dress on her way over the fence.

Once she had successfully overcome the fence and planted her feet on the grassy ground, Lily nippily dusted off her gown and compelled herself to ignore the pain in her arm. She looked about her surroundings, a feeling of accomplishment swelling within her: Judging by the music and laughter coming from the depths of the manor, there was a fantastical party going on.

Lily smiled secretively and began to explore.

* * *

The atmosphere in the dining hall was that of enthrallment and exhilaration. Every elaborately fashioned guest carried a flute of champagne and picked away at the palatable pastries and exotic delicacies set out on the long, linen-swathed tables. The dominant color within the hall was gold, every plate, napkin ring and goblet mirroring the shining, shimmering hue.

Beautiful women with lengthy, body-hugging dresses and fancy up-dos flitted around the room, chatting up prospective men and significant women within high society. Older men in top hats sat arrogantly in their plush armchairs, smoking cigars or drinking brandy, while younger men escorted pink-cheeked ladies to the dance floor, whispering compliments in their ears and penciling in their dance cards.

This was the opulent scene in which Lord James Potter—heir to the Potter fortune and title—found himself immersed.

"_James_!" a youthful blonde cooed seductively, provocatively sidling up next to him and squeezing her arms together to enhance her tragic cleavage, "Dance with me, won't you?"

James Potter sighed inwardly: He was a striking man of twenty with messy, tousled brown hair, an athletic build, and mystifying eyes which were only heightened by wiry spectacles. Also boasting a noble title and a large pocket-book, he was one of the most sought after gentlemen in British society—a fact he utterly _detested_—for he possessed all the qualities a typical noble woman vied for: money, power and looks.

"I'm afraid I have had a little too much to drink, Ms. Collins." James Potter explained suavely, forcing himself to hide his dislike for the woman, "I wouldn't want to embarrass you on the dance floor."

Truthfully, James wanted nothing to do with Ms. Collins or any of her snooty friends. Though the surrounding party was for his twentieth birthday, he was _not_ enjoying himself; rather, he was miserable, surrounded by people he neither loved nor liked. As it was, he could barely stand to be in the presence of his own family—a group of blood-related aristocrats who he considered to be materialistic and attention-seeking.

Ms. Collins flashed James a pouty look before latching onto his arm, continuing to plead with him. He knew she wanted to be seen with him to improve her reputation and incite jealousy from her friends—not because she actually liked him.

"But Lord Potter—" Ms. Collins started, batting her eyelashes wildly and clutching his muscled arm, "Won't you dance with me, even for a minute?"

"_Later_." James practically growled, the blonde bombshell trying his patience, "If you'll excuse me."

James pulled out of the woman's grasp and retreated to the other side of the room, frustrated beyond belief. He deeply resented the lavish party that had been thrown for him; all he had wanted was a small get together with his mates. The plastic and pompous people proximate to him were most certainly _not_ his friends; merely power-hungry tycoons wishing to climb another rung in the society ladder.

He felt sickened.

"_James! There you are!_" Mrs. Potter hissed discreetly, coming up from behind her son, "Find a pretty young lady and _dance _with her, won't you? You look absolutely pathetic_,_ wallowing in this corner on your own."

James' mother was dressed in a long, royal-blue gown that bloomed outwards and trailed along the floor. On her gloved hands were bravura jewels of all shapes and sizes, while around her throat was a diamond choker—an overwhelming piece of jewellery that had cost a small fortune. Her shiny noir hair was in a pretty up-do, which triggered her stunning purple-tinged eyes to stand out prominently.

"I haven't the appetite for dancing, _Mother_." James replied flatly, picking up a flute of champagne and downing it in a simple gulp.

"This is _your_ party, _James Gerald__,_ and I shall _not_ tolerate you ignoring your distinguished guests and getting drunk on _liquor!_" Mrs. Potter spat, ripping the glass out of his hands and checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was paying attention to them; she could not, after all, have her delicate image ruined.

"The advantage to turning twenty—" James began, grinning defiantly at his paranoid mother, "—is that I can now do _whatever the hell I want to_. From now on, your threats don't hold with me."

"_Why you_—Lord Reynolds! How _thrilled_ I am to see you!" Mrs. Potter suddenly chirped pleasantly, a large, cigar-totting man having waddled over to them, "How is you delightful wife doing?"

James utilized the interruption to his advantage, silently fading into the background in order to get away from the dreary party he was forced to claim as his own. He exited the dining hall and headed for the back porch, keen on losing himself in the illustrious gardens, which always seemed to provide him with momentary escape from his troubles.

James stepped outside into the fresh, dewy air, taking in the floral scent of the grounds. The pitter-patter of the precipitation soothed him as he took a seat on the veranda lounge and basked in the silence. He closed his eyes, the graceful raindrops in tune with the beat of his heart, and imagined himself to be far, far away…

James' daydream was suddenly interrupted when he sensed another presence in the garden. He angrily opened his eyes and looked around for the perpetrator, but saw no one. He rose out of his seat and continued to inspect, ready to give the person who had followed him a taste of the infamous Potter temper, when he noticed the figure of a girl dancing in the rainy distance…

He froze, entranced.

The girl wore a tattered, old-fashioned dress and had messy wet hair the colour of Christmas poinsettias. Her lips—equally as crimson—were parted in a smile, and her eyes were closed as she twirled about the garden, lost in her thoughts. She appeared to be completely comfortable in the rainwater, content to sway in the torrential precipitation surrounding her. She didn't shriek or scream or cry because her looks were tarnished, her hair wet and her dress ruined; instead, she thrived upon it. James could not believe a woman of her beauty could even stand the thought.

_And here I am, shrinking under the porch roof, afraid to get a drop of water on my suit_...

James was awe- struck. He felt intrigued and irrationally consumed by the extraordinary woman, who had suddenly appeared like an enigmatic apparition. As he continued to watch the redheaded creature flutter about the garden, a sudden idea occurred to him: James extracted his wand from his suit pocket and impulsively conjured a dozen glowing faeries. The tiny beings giggled pleasantly as they tested out their new wings, then fluttered over to the hypnotic girl, excited to surprise her.

Confident the woman was a muggle, James felt the need to dazzle her as much as she dazzled him.

* * *

The gardens were magnificent and Lily felt like she was lingering in one of her late-night imaginings. She didn't care that she was drenched or that she was shivering uncontrollably, for the utter jubilation she felt was enough to numb her physical pain. She gracefully danced throughout the botanical paradis in a surreal state, her passion and exhilaration succumbing to the thundering skies above.

Lily eventually spun so vigorously that she lost her balance and fell the squishy ground. As she climbed back to her feet, her laugher drowned by the booming thunder, Lily spotted a patch of white lilies a few yards away. Thinking herself along, Lily approached them and arched her back in order to pluck one of the flowers from the saturated soil. She examined it in her hand and smiled; it was befitting to take a souvenir back with her even though it would fade and shrivel soon after.

When Lily finally straightened up again she gasped; prancing all around her—dressed in attire fashioned from rose petals—were little pink pixies, each no bigger than her fist.

_Faeries_?

"Oh my…" Lily whispered, admiring the tiny creatures in sheer wonderment, "I really _am_ dreaming..."

The faeries continued to flit around her serenely, each giggling and smiling; then the bug-like beings ceremoniously broke into a supple dance, performing a perfect airborne ballet. Lily could not contain her amazement; she laughed blissfully, knowing she would never forget the night she had danced with fairies—creatures that only lurked in her most whimsical dreams.

The faeries finished their fanciful foxtrot and scurried into a nearby willow, lighting it up like a holiday tree. Lily's smile did not evaporate with the mystic creatures, though she was saddened to see them leave. She continued to walk in the rain, her heart filled with excitement as opposed to pain.

* * *

The pleasure evident on the girl's pretty face brought a grin to James'. It had never been a goal of his to make other people smile, cry or laugh; he had been too spoilt to care, and thus had never realized what a joy it could be. Now, seeing the dreamy expression upon the female stranger's face, he knew what it felt like and what his mother had so selfishly never taught him.

Once the light show had concluded, James noticed the girl begin to leave. Panicking, he felt a sudden urge to call out to her; however, he knew she would not be able to hear him anymore as she was now too far away and the rainfall was too loud.

"To hell with that!" James exclaimed, feverishly unbuttoning his suit jacket and pulling off his bow-tie, "_I'm not standing on the sidelines anymore_."

James peeled off his jacket, unfastened his white shirt down to his chest and whipped his tie behind him. Then, with a speedy run, he hurtled himself into the rain, no longer sheltered by the veranda roof. He was determined to approach the girl, no matter how many puddles he had to stomp through or how many fishponds he had to swim across.

Lily knew it was time to leave the grounds and return to the hellish school she reluctantly called home. Though forlorn, she would return in good spirits, the night's events leaving her residually euphoric. Just as she began to approach the wrought-iron gates that prevented her departure, she heard a soft, masculine voice call out, seemingly belonging to someone mere feet away.

"Excuse me, miss?" a dark-haired stranger inquired uncertainly.

Lily turned around in terrified surprise, her eyes growing wide as she observed the handsome man standing before her. Blinded by fear, she did not entirely taking in his attractive, half-naked appearance.

"I...I...I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to trespass… _please_, don't report me to the police!" Lily pleaded in a shaky tone, her voice quaking from a combination of panic and cold.

As she slowly began to move away from the young man, her back eventually pressed up against the gate. Backed into a corner like a scared puppy, all Lily could think about was how much trouble she would be in once she was returned to Sister Agatha in handcuffs…

"Don't be absurd, you aren't in any kind of trouble." the good-looking man said offhandedly, trying to reassure the startled girl she was safe.

"You mean...you aren't upset that I'm trespassing…on P-P-Potter property?" Lily stuttered in nervous curiosity, visibly relaxing in the striking man's presence.

"No, I am not angry you are on _my _property." he replied, emphasizing that he was a Potter in an attempt to impress her, "However, I am curious as to why you are here. Let us convene under one of the trees so I can hear your answer properly; the rain is muffling everything you say."

Thinking she had no other choice, Lily followed the man under a large willow tree—the very same sapling which housed the mythical faeries. Though drips of water still slithered through the wispy leaves, it was much easier to hear under such conditions; however, Lily trembled when she noticed how close she and the handsome man were, their soaked bodies nearly pressed up against one another's.

"Now then, your story, if you please." the man inquired curtly. Though it took quite a bit of his self-control to keep from gazing at her swollen cleavage, he appeared quite content staring into her emerald eyes.

"It's quite an..._interesting_ tale, to be sure—" Lily began awkwardly, reluctant to tell the stranger the circumstances in which she had found herself, "—but I don't want to bore you with my little adventure."

He grinned subtly as he observed her shy stare pointedly focused on the wet grass below them.

"I don't think you know just how much you have intrigued me." he replied honestly, Lily looking up at him with shocked surprise etched on her face, "I don't run into many _drenched damsels_, you see."

Lily gulped. The stranger's eyes were the oddest color she had ever seen; a soft brown shade, resembling melting chocolate, with flecks of purple swimming within the distinctive brown. Lily felt lost in his eyes—the same eyes that looked into hers with fascination...

She quickly shifted her eye contact, aware that she was openly staring at the roguish man's staggering features and physique. Lily blushed; she had absolutely no idea how to react to men or their actions. She did, after all, attend an all girls' school devoid of men.

"I suppose I am an odd sight to behold." Lily finally whispered, trying to gain some composure under the man's intense gaze.

"I wouldn't have chosen the word "odd"; perhaps unique...in a beautiful way." The stranger spoke genuinely, apparently shocking himself with his own boldness.

Again, Lily was at a loss of words, having no idea how to respond to such a compliment. Every time the beautiful man spoke to her she wished he would stop, for she could neither comprehend the overwhelming feeling that was encompassing her, nor control the persistent tingling up her spine...

"Thank y-yo-you, Lord Potter." Lily replied modestly, unable to stop herself from sputtering foolishly.

Lord James Potter, however, did not think the girl was sputtering due to nerves; he instead surmised that she was shivering due to her wet, tantalizingly low-cut dress. He watched as a tiny drop of water splashed onto her chest, slowly traveling down between her exquisite cleavage...

"Please...call me James." he replied in a husky voice, jerking himself out of his lusty-stupor and looking into Lily's eyes once more: He could barely tear them away from her; barely control himself from reaching out and intimately touching her...

"_You're_ James Potter?" Lily announced suspiciously, regaining some of her strength as she remembered the girls she served detention with speaking of his party, "The bloke with the '_brilliant birthday_ _bash_' that was advertised in the paper?"

"Yes, I just turned twenty." James replied self-assuredly, glad the girl was taking somewhat of an interest in him, "Did you make the invite list? I don't recall seeing you inside—"

"_Me_?" Lily exclaimed in amusement, an ironic smile lighting her face, "I very much doubt I would merit an invitation to a party like yours. I expect I'd be regarded as common riff-raff not fit to clean your _shoes_, actually."

James frowned unhappily: He wasn't disappointed she was not of high society like himself, but because she too was obsessing about her status in the community—just as all the guests inside were. He felt suddenly frustrated, wanting nothing more than to shake the figurative 'society ladder' and cause all those who claimed to be on top to fall flat on their faces.

"I wish you wouldn't say that." James said in annoyance, frustration evident in his voice, "I am no better than you or the local beggar around the corner, so please don't insist I am and put yourself down in the process."

Lily was taken aback: She never would she have fathomed a high society gentleman to be anything but pompous and ignorant. She had been wrong to assume James Potter was an old man, and now was wrong about him being an arrogant fop.

_Today has been a downright revelation_...

"I must confess, Lord Potter—" Lily started, swallowing back her bashfulness.

"James." the soaked gentleman said softly, correcting her.

"_James_." Lily whispered, her voice shaky as she spoke his name, "You are not the man I assumed you to be...I had you pinned as an old son-of-a-bitch, actually."

James couldn't hide his amusement with the girl's comment. He began to think he was not the only one capable of being brash and opinionated...

"A popular misconception, I believe." He said, smiling as he ran a hand through his messy, wet hair. As water irritably beaded on his glasses, he took them off and put them in his back pocket, "That is, if you don't read the gossip magazines or newspapers thoroughly."

"Sorry." Lily apologized, though a small smile played on her blue lips, "I don't waste my time with gossip magazines."

_Though I might start reading them now..._

"You're shivering." James commented suddenly, taking off his white dress-shirt and wrapping it around an uncoordinated and slightly embarrassed Lily, "Are you cold?"

Lily wished James had not taken off his shirt, for his muscular chest was seductively built and cruelly tempting. It took quite a lot of will power for her not to let a gasp of pleasure emit from her lips as he wrapped the damp shirt around her. She wondered: Did all society gentlemen act in such a way?

"This really isn't necessary...perhaps I should be on my way." Lily murmured, battling the conflicting feelings which commanded her to both stay and go, "It's getting quite late—"

"I couldn't possibly let you march back home in the state you are currently in." James exclaimed authoritatively, fiercely trying to come up with any excuse to keep the beautiful damsel around him longer, "Not to mention it isn't safe for a young lady to be walking the streets at night!"

"I assure you, _James_, I am more than capable of taking care of myself." Lily defied him, letting her fiery personality peek through her gentle and helpless facade.

"I did not think otherwise, Miss...?" James paused in confusion for a mere moment, "You haven't told me your name yet."

"It is not pertinent for you to know my name." Lily said offhandedly, looking away from James' curious glance and turning her attention toward the dewy grass once more.

"What are you afraid of?" James inquired, his brow creasing in mystification and his mouth twitching downwards.

"I just..." Lily started meekly, looking into James' delightful dessert-coloured eyes, "What's the importance of giving you my name if you will never see me again?"

"Why do you presume that? I may see you again...perhaps you'll be taking a stroll down the street, or doing something else common; either way, I will not know how to address you." James drawled pointedly, hoping the young lady would give in.

He leaned against the tree heedlessly, his hair a complete mess and his bare chest exposed to the rain and chilly night air. Lily wondered if he knew how appealing he looked as he positioned himself, looking more like the depiction of a Greek hero like Hercules than an actual man.

James noticed Lily's persistent trembling was growing worse, reckoning that if she stood outside in such a divulging dress any longer she would catch her death of cold. Instead of inquiring about her name again, James approached her and softly held her hand.

"What are you doing?" Lily asked timidly, her heart leaping as James' fingers became entwined with her own.

"I'm taking you inside the manor. I can't have you quivering to death out here." James said mellifluously, his chocolate orbs looking concerned as he registered Lily's clammy, wet skin.

"I couldn't possibly go in there!" Lily yelped in mulish surprise, "I _must_ be getting home—"

"I have already made it clear I am not letting you walk home _alone_ at night." James replied stubbornly, matching the girl's obstinacy, "_Lord knows_ what some of those street men would do to you if they found you alone and in _that_ dress!"

_After all, I know what I want to do to you in that dress…_

"I can handle _loutish men_, thank you very much!" Lily countered impulsively, her green orbs flashing defensively; she squirmed, suddenly feeling self-conscious in her dress, "I'll have you know I am not your problem!"

To Lily's surprise, James took evasive action and rapidly pinned her against the tree they both dwelled beneath. He used his body to entrap her and held her arms over her head, reluctantly making her cleavage even more famous.

"_What are you doing_?" Lily shrieked in protest as James' bare chest pressed against hers in a very brash and audacious way.

"Try and get out of this situation—" James said portentously, a calculating smirk on his attractive face, "—then perhaps I shall let you attempt to take on the forceful and lustful men lurking about at this ungodly hour."

Lily gazed at James with venom evident in her stare, though she consciously admitted it had been a miracle she hadn't encountered any street trash on her way to the Potter mansion in the first place. She began to panic, knowing she could not break out of James' hold on her: The sun would rise in a few hours...what would Sister Agatha say when she found Lily's bed empty?

"I must return home _immediately_." Lily said inflexibly, her wet, red hair naturally falling onto her exposed shoulders, "You cannot prevent me!"

James chuckled lightly at the beautiful girl's fiery attitude: The more time he spent in her presence, the more he started to adore her feisty personality.

"And that, my dear, is where you are incorrect." James replied in a mischievously-innocent tone.

With one foul swoop, James Potter had the temperamental redhead slung over his shoulder, her upper body draped down his nude back. James trotted back into the heavy downpour toward the mansion, Lily pounding on his back in objection and cursing like a pirate.

"You're appalling language isn't going to get you anywhere—" James exclaimed flippantly as he cautiously entered the back of the mansion, hoping to enter unnoticed, "—so I suggest you cease your sputtering so my renowned guests don't realize our arrival."

James smoothly deposited Lily back onto her feet, cringing when he met her sharp glare. Though she was soaked to the bone and her face was scrunched up in anger, he still found her seductive.

_How is it possible that this woman leaves me breathless with little to no effort on her part? Women barely prompt me to smile, nevermind swoon..._

"Well excuse me if I don't comply with your kidnapping of me!" Lily whispered irritably, though her anger diminished as she began to look about the mansion curiously, "Where are we going?"

James breathed a sigh of relief, glad the woman's tone had softened and her shivering had ceased. As she was still in a soaked dress, he would provide her with a clean and dry one and then walk her home—a task he hoped would extend over a long period of time.

"We'll head up to my quarters and I'll fetch you a dry dress—" James whispered, hoping no intoxicated guest lurked around the corner, "—then I'll walk you home."

"If you insist." Lily huffed tiredly, relenting to James and his stubborn demands: She figured it was pointless to argue with him, and was suddenly curious to explore the rest of the Potter mansion...

James gently seized Lily's clammy hand and led her into a lavish hallway, chalked with priceless antiques, satin upholstery and a glittering chandelier that proceeded over the impressive entrance. Lily noticed that the high ceiling in the entrance hall—which housed the grand staircase—had intricate designs engraved into it, displaying breath-taking images of angels, fairies, and other creatures Lily had not seen before. As they walked beneath it, Lily could hear the soft tinkling of glasses and song from behind the large, oak doors near the staircase.

The odd-apparelled pair made their way toward the staircase swiftly, but before Lily had even ascended the first step, she felt James brusquely pull her back into a small alcove under the flight of steps. She attempted to complain about James rough handling her, but the words did not escape her lips as she felt him press one of his hands over her mouth, therefore muffling her critical speech.

"Someone is coming." James whispered soothingly in Lily's ear as one hand covered her lips and the other crept around her petite waist protectively; she felt sure he could feel her quiver beneath her dress at his touch.

James' advanced intuition was correct, for two stunning women stopped abruptly before the ornate, carpeted stairs. Lily and James froze in the positions they were in, hoping the women would soon move to a more appropriate location to chat.

"Well? Have you and Lord Potter danced yet?" one of the beautiful young ladies asked her companion excitably, twirling her shiny brunette locks between her spidery fingers.

"No, but I expect he is just intimidated by my looks and charm." a pompous female said airily, her nose upturned, "After all, it isn't everyday he meets a woman that would make the _perfect wife_."

Lily heard James snort in disgust as the snooty woman continued to speak of her beauty and talent. James gradually dropped his hand from Lily's lips and rested it on her bare shoulder; however, he was so entertained by the two women's chatter that he didn't notice his hand slipping down towards Lily's breasts...

"If that hand slips any lower I will box you in the nose." Lily hissed quietly in James' ear, causing him to send a bashful, yet lustful look Lily's way.

"—I mean, it's apparent that James is fond of me." the flaxen woman continued condescendingly as Lily and James focused on them again, "The _impious_ looks he sends me are enough to make my knees go weak! Don't you dare mention this to anyone, but I most certainly wouldn't wait until marriage to get him in my bed…"

Lily looked over her shoulder curiously, finding James' face contorted in repulsion and fury. Whoever the woman was, it was obvious to her that James was _not_ fond of her.

"Ms. Collins has some effrontery." James said in a low growl, his lips tickling Lily's ear, "The only looks I send her are ones of displeasure."

Lily looked at the blonde woman again. Ms. Collins seemed to flawlessly fit her stereotypical outlook on the wealthy, as she was both arrogant and privileged. It was intriguing to know James did not find such a dazzling woman beautiful, for Lily herself thought she was the epitome of perfection; after all, Lily was nothing compared to _Ms. Collins_, yet James had already expressed how exquisite he thought she was...

Mere minutes later an older gentleman beckoned the two women back into the dining hall, announcing they would be singing "Happy Birthday" to the guest of honour. The pair scurried away, not wanting to miss any important festivities or a glimpse of Lord James Potter.

"My mother is going to be furious." James exclaimed merrily as he gently pulled Lily out from the alcove and up the plush-carpeted stairs.

"Well, I expect she has reason to be!" Lily stammered indignantly as she trudged up the stairs behind him, trying not to fumble on her dress hem, "The guest of honour had gone missing at his own party!"

"Like I give a damn about what my mother thinks." James shot back, holding Lily's forearm to prevent her from tripping as she missed a step, "Besides, I don't care what a room full of stuffy, society-infatuated people think of me."

Lily couldn't help but admire James' crass outlook on his self- image: It was much like Lily's, for she didn't care about what the nuns or other peers thought of her, either.

"My room is this way." James said formally, leading Lily down an elaborately furnished hallway fashioned with marble sculptures, tapestries and oil paintings.

He fumbled with a rusty key in his trouser pocket when they finally stopped in front of his tall bedroom door. As James hastened to open it, Lily looked curiously at one of the portraits and gasped, horrified.

"_That painting just winked at me_!" a distraught and awe-struck Lily mewed, tugging on James' nude arm vigorously.

"You're chilled and tired: You must be hallucinating." James said awkwardly, scolding himself for forgetting she was a muggle, "It was probably just a trick of the light."

Her frown deepened with James' comments. When he finally pushed open his bedroom door, Lily strolled in blindly, reprimanding her flourishing imagination.

Lily's eyes flitted about James bedroom inquisitively as he locked the door behind him to prevent any rude interruptions. Against the far wall was a magnificent four poster bed carved out of rosewood, expensive sheets and pillows adorning it, while another wall housed shelves stocked to the brim with books, all of them looking ancient and tattered. An inviting, crackling fire provided the massive room with warmth and light, lush chairs and a changing screen placed before it, and outside of James' door-length windows was a marble balcony overlooking the River Thames.

James let Lily take in the room's interior design for a few moments before whipping open his cupboard and extracting a dress he quickly conjured with his wand. Lily was too fascinated with the gold trimming on the spines of his old books to notice him perform magic.

"I've found a dress for you—" James called out unflappably, watching Lily's attention return to him, "—but I shall only give it to you if you provide me with your _name_." James finished slyly, a roguish smile appearing on his lips.

"Are you still on about that?" Lily inquired, scrunching up her nose; "It really is of no consequence—"

"It's important to me." James spoke flatly, his gaze sweeping over Lily's flushed face, "I don't understand your reluctance to tell me."

Lily stared keenly into the embers in the fire, hoping James would drop the subject. She wasn't sure why she was disinclined to tell James her name: She had always loved her name, just as she loved the flower she was named after, but divulging the small secret to him was like thoughtlessly giving him her trust.

"Here, take this dress and change behind that screen." James sighed, surmising the girl would willingly submit to the shivers and turn into a glacier before telling him her name.

Lily obediently took the deep purple dress from the rather forlorn-looking James, making sure not to provide him with eye contact as she disappeared behind his screen. The fabric divider was placed before the fire and warmed her body as she feebly tried to worm out of the tight, saturated dress she adorned.

James' gaze lingered on his twiddling fingers as he plunged onto one of the chairs by the fire, patiently awaiting the mysterious woman and pondering about her unwillingness to tell him her name. As it was taking her awhile to change, James became puzzled when Lily came out from behind the screen wearing the same soaked dress.

"That was productive." James commented lightly, cocking an eyebrow at the look of virginity passing over Lily's pretty porcelain features; his heart leapt fiercely.

"I...well I...need your help getting this dress...off." Lily stuttered, clearing her throat uncomfortably as an adorable blush—which James found quite irresistible—coloured her face.

"W-What?" James asked in muted exhilaration, his pants uncomfortably tightening at the notion.

"I can't unclasp the buttons down the back," Lily whispered docilely, wondering how she had managed to do it before. Embarrassment caused her cheeks to burn hot.

"Oh...not a problem." James cleared his throat ineptly, trying to relax the sexual tension and clear his mind of all the wicked thoughts flooding his brain.

Lily begrudgingly turned her back toward James so that he could have access to her buttons. She thought he seemed reluctant, unaware he was internally berating himself for having such blessedly sinful imaginings.

James finally began to unfasten the buttons on Lily's dress, fiercely trying to suppress his hands from trembling at the sight of her exposed back. As he continued, Lily started to slightly quake as well, her breathing becoming laboured as James' fingers mistakenly stroked her naked skin.

"Almost done." James Potter mumbled incoherently, surprised the beautiful stranger could render such emotion from him.

As James popped open the last button on Lily's soaked dress his gaze could not be torn away from her porcelain skin. With the knuckles of his right hand, James lustfully traced down the shy girl's spine, causing Lily to gasp in surprised pleasure and instantly clasp a hand over her mouth in scandalous shock.

The extremely timid redhead quickly pulled away from James and disappeared behind the changing screen. Cursing his lack of restraint, James took a seat back on his armchair, shaking from the desire that coerced through his body. He had been intent upon being a gentleman, but he found her to be irresistible.

_Gain control of yourself, man!_

James looked up toward the changing screen and whimpered quietly. He had received the partition—made out of beautiful Chinese silk—from a Chinese official last year. Placed in front of the fire, James could see every curve of Lily's changing body perfectly, the silhouette being quite clear.

James sighed ruefully, turning his attention to the window to give the woman some privacy and end his sexual torment; he would certainly need a cold shower after this evening. He eventually got up and put on another dress shirt, thinking it inappropriate to be walking around shirtless so late at night, then gently opened the doors to his balcony. He stepped out onto the marble and looked out into the night: As it had stopped raining, only the sounds of the nocturnal darkness floated in from the frosty heavens.

Lily finally emerged from behind the elaborate Chinese barrier wearing the plum-coloured dress—trimmed in lace—and a perplexed expression. Lily stood motionless, for a few minutes, wondering when James would turn around and notice her...

"…Lord Potter?" Lily inquired softly, shaky from her last encounter with his lingering touch.

"James." he whispered in gentle frustration before turning around to face the captivating woman once again.

They stared into each other's eyes for what seemed an eternity: Both seemed unwilling to break the silence that had overcome the room, as both were afraid of the foreign feelings that churned their stomachs.

"I...I should be going." Lily whispered squeamishly, fidgeting awkwardly with the lace around the dress' cuffed sleeves.

"Of course." James commented agreeably, looking towards the sky and noticing the horizon beginning to burn with orange and red hues, "It seems the sun is starting to come up."

Lily stepped out onto the balcony with James and admired the lovely landscape; however, her warm thoughts turned ice cold when she realized how long she had been out gallivanting around London.

"There is no need to accompany me back home." Lily said suddenly, anxiety building up inside her as the thought of Sister Agatha's furious face flashed before her eyes, "You have already done enough for me, and for that I thank you."

"I will be escorting you home; I care not if you refuse to let me." James said stubbornly, crossing his arms in an imperial fashion and staring hard at the woman; their previous nervousness evaporated once more.

"You are impossible to reason with!" Lily exclaimed in frustration, admitting defeat, "Were you aware of that?"

"A personality trait I am glad to possess," James said smugly, a small, husky chuckle emitting from his lips as his eyes sparkled with laughter.

Lily snorted at James' pompous attitude before following him out of his stately bed quarters and into the adjoining corridor that led toward the grand staircase. Lily noticed she no longer heard the hustle and bustle of people downstairs, making it apparent that all the extravagant guests had left the Potter mansion and returned home.

The last thing Lily heard before scurrying down the carpeted stairs and out of the Potter mansion was the giant grandfather clock chiming five times. James noticed Lily's paranoid expression as he thrust open the large iron-gate at the front of the property: Worried, he clasped her hand and began to quickly pull her down the street.

"Where do you live?" James inquired as the clinking of Lily's heels echoed down the naked streets of London.

"St. Madeline's boarding school." Lily said in a slur, her breathing becoming laboured.

James cocked an eyebrow and abruptly stopped running, causing Lily to whip back into his chest. She groaned, noticing that one of her spiky heels had snapped off.

"You could have bloody warned me you were stopping! I'm not a rag-doll that can be easily jerked around!" Lily spat in a mixture of annoyance and apprehension, taking off her destroyed stilettos and shuddering as her bare feet made contact with the cold and wet sidewalk.

"You snuck out of _St. Madeline's_?" James inquired in disbelief, completely ignoring Lily's complaints, his face contorting in confusion, "The nun's will strap you if they find you missing from your bed!"

"So then you can imagine why I am so eager to get back before they find it _empty_!" Lily cried, her eyes filling with fright.

"_Merlin!_ Why didn't you say that from the start?" James exclaimed, a note of laughter in his voice, "Let's get you home, then! Are you partial to piggy-backs?"

Without gracing James with an answer, Lily jumped onto his back and threw her spoiled shoes to the curb.

James walked briskly toward the boarding school, remembering where it was as he had visited it once before. He knew St. Madeline's to be a prestigious school, his older sister having attended many years ago.

As the large, bricked school came into view, Lily sighed in relief; however, she felt gloomy at the thought of her night of frivolity and fantasy coming to a brutal conclusion.

"Head toward the wall with the vines, please." Lily whispered in James' ear, her arms wrapped around his neck to in order to support herself.

"Excuse my bewilderment—" James started, perplexity etched onto his face, "—but isn't it usually custom to enter a building through the front door?"

"Just do as I say." Lily said, rolling her eyes as a sheepish grin played upon her lips.

James—for once—did as he was told and headed toward the wild, serpent-like plant slithering up the red-blocked wall. James gently eased Lily off of his brawny back and onto the dewy lawn. After he had deposited her, a stab of disinclination to let her out of his sight came over him.

"You aren't _climbing_ up there, are you?" James inquired, tearing his eyes away from Lily for a moment to observe their surroundings.

"I most certainly am." Lily said, smiling simply, "Will you catch me if I fall?"

"That depends." James said, grinning foolishly as he became abruptly impressed by the girl's mischievous nature, "But I would love to see you attempt it whilst adorning _that_ gown."

Lily gave James a mocking look—one that James happily received—before grasping the thick foliage and starting her ascent to the fusty loft. James watched the scene alertly, ready to catch her if she should slip; however, his attention was not needed as Lily reached her bedroom window and carefully entered the cluttered, muddled area she considered her sanctuary.

"Are you all right?" James called up toward the heavens, hoping to receive an uplifting reply from the pretty girl.

"I'm fine." Lily replied in a hushed tone, collecting herself and popping her red-haired head out of the gritty window, "Would you fancy getting this purple dress back?"

"That won't be necessary—_ooof_!" James started before getting a face-full of lilac fabric.

James untangled himself from the frilly robe, almost stumbling to the ground, and could distinctly hear Lily's tinkling giggles drifting down from her shattered window. To James, it was the most beautiful music he had heard all night.

Lily leaned slightly out of her window, only her bare shoulders being exposed to James' shameless gaze. While he collected himself, Lily admired how James' charming, idiotic smile could rival the glittering sunrise behind him.

"You seemed awfully eager to squirm out of this outfit." James said, holding the still-warm dress before him seductively and providing a scandalized-Lily with a suggestive wink, "Shall I climb up there and put you to bed?"

"Don't you dare!" Lily exclaimed girlishly, shyly covering her nude chest with her arms as if James were situated behind her, his eyes lingering on her naked figure, "Besides, you must be on your way."

"If you insist, my lady." James said, smirking at Lily's flushed cheeks: He would never openly admit it, but he would give _anything_ to be up there with her at that very moment, her hair tousled and nothing left to his provocative imagination.

_He has a startling effect on me—_Lily thought to herself as she watched James fold the silk gown and ready himself for the short journey home.

"Miss?" James called out once he was reluctantly ready to leave, "I believe you forgot something."

Lily leaned slightly out of the window again, curiously looking at the small, white flower James clenched tightly in his hands. She gasped: It was the flower she had picked from the garden so many hours ago, its delicate white petals still fresh and speckled with droplets of water.

"Shall I throw the flower up to you?" James inquired curiously, seeing the desire twinkle in Lily's eyes, "Get ready to catch it!"

Lily had to extend quite a distance out of her attic window to catch the small blossom, giving James a staggering eye-full of unclothed, porcelain skin. She sharply backed into the attic again, gasping girlishly as she realized she was being a tad too stimulating: James grinned from ear to ear, his body tingling with sexual excitement.

Lily placed the small flower on her nightstand gracefully and, before heading back to the window to bid the dashing Lord farewell, threw on a dressing robe, making sure to tie the sash tightly around her petit waist.

"Goodbye, James. Thank you for all the exciting nonsense you put me through tonight." Lily said, leaning on her window-sill carelessly and giving James an unreadable smile.

"If you ever feel like being rebellious and sneaking out again, you know where to find me." James said, his grin faltering slightly at Lily's lack of enthusiasm.

"I don't think there will be another time, James." Lily replied sorrowfully, her eyes misting over, a mixture of dark green and gold swirls shadowing her soul, "It's a miracle I didn't get caught this time around."

James' Cheshire cat smirk disappeared, leaving in its place a numb, indifferent look. He wondered if the mysterious woman was too good to be true...yet he did not want to wake up from the whimsical dream he was engrossed in.

"I must be off...goodnight." James murmured suavely, giving Lily a meaningful look before gathering the plum dress in his arms and exiting the grounds, misery and dejection overcoming him.

Lily observed James Potter's retreating figure with an imprinted mope on her lips. Their good-bye exchange had been so abrupt and formal...

"JAMES!" Lily shouted boisterously, her melodious tone sounding prominent among the whisper that had encompassed the picturesque landscape below and above her.

James Potter stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face the beckoning woman that had provided him with the ultimate birthday bequest, caramel confusion churning in his chocolate eyes.

"Yes?" inquired the messy-haired Lord, eyes curious and lips parted slightly.

"My name...is Lily." the redhead spoke softly, observing the relaxed fulfillment dawn on the impish Lord's features. She smiled tenderly and vanished into the obscure shadows of her enigmatic attic.

"Thank you, _Lily_, for a night I shall never forget." James whispered to himself, his soft words stolen in the wind's blustery breath.

The dark figure paced tiredly off of the extensive school property, hands deep in the pockets of his suit jacket. He exuded an air of nobility, one of courage and elegance, yet his lop-sided smile easily betrayed his debonair exterior.

It would not be the last time James Potter— the most attractive and desirable Lord in London—would be trolling on the pristine lawns of St. Madeline's Academy, nor would it be the last time he saw the woman that haunted his dreams that night.

* * *

Author's Notes

Please continue to read & review!

-pratty-prongs-princesse

PS…enjoying the story so far? "Like" Petal in the Rain by pratty-prongs-princesse on Facebook to receive commentary from the author, an in-depth look at characters and chapters, material from upcoming chapters, and to interact with fellow fans!


	3. Chapter 3

Petal in the Rain

* * *

Chapter 3- You Found Me

_Lost and insecure,  
You found me, you found me.  
Lying on the floor,  
Surrounded, surrounded.  
Why'd you have to wait?  
Where were you? Where were you?_

-The Fray

* * *

"_Lily_? Have you been paying attention to _anything_ I've been saying?"

Lily Evans frowned absentmindedly, her best friend's chatter falling on deaf ears. She methodically stirred her cereal—which was beginning to resemble porridge—in a counter-clockwise motion, unresponsive due to depressing thoughts of Lord James Potter.

It had been weeks—perhaps even an agonizing _month_—since Lily had last seen him, but to her it had felt like an eternity. Her adventure with the dashing Lord was now a far-away dream...an out-of-body experience that didn't seem grounded in reality. Though she desperately yearned to repeat the night and escape from the school once more, she knew her chances of escaping uncaught again were slim.

_He's probably forgotten about me by now anyways..._

Lily sighed desolately. The boy with messy black hair, wire-rimmed spectacles and chocolate-coloured eyes would become just another memory she'd have to bottle-up and store in her endless archive of pipedreams.

"_Lily!_"

She recoiled—Roxanne's shrill voice finally jolting her out of her fantasy-induced stupor—and sent her goblet of orange juice flying.

"_Sorry_." Lily mumbled incoherently, weakly trying to mop up the mess of liquid trickling onto the hard-wood floor, "What were you saying about knitting patterns?"

"_Knitting patterns?_" Roxanne mocked shortly, rolling her pretty gray eyes, "I was talking about the French Revolution and its international consequences!"

"Close enough." Lily murmured bitterly, her green orbs appearing dull and fatigued as she took a sip of her tea, "Since when do you talk about such witty subjects, anyway?"

"Since we have a History test on the subject this morning." Roxanne replied stridently, cocking an eyebrow at Lily's uncharacteristic behaviour and lack of interest, "Tell me you _at least _reviewed the chapter?"

"I didn't have time to study." Lily snapped hurriedly as an inexplicable blush crept onto her cheeks. Her gaze dropped down to her bowl of mush as she prayed Roxanne would drop the subject.

"_Didn't have time?_" Roxanne echoed suspiciously, snorting, "What exactly are you doing up in that attic that's occupying all of your time? Counting the _spiders_ on the ceiling?"

"_No_!" Lily fired back defensively, her eyes flashing, "Can you stop being a prying _hag, _please?"

"Sure, if you stop ignoring me and find something more interesting to stare at then your _bloody_ _breakfast__!_" Roxanne retorted irritably.

To Lily's dismay, Roxanne's tirade was cut short by the heavily-built headmistress of St. Madeline's, Sister Agatha. The large woman rose from her seat—seemingly crosser than ever—and suspiciously scanned the choir of breakfasting girls, as if looking for any illegal activity.

"I demand the attention of the hall!" Sister Agatha bellowed inelegantly, sounding more like a beached-whale than a human being, "I have a very significant announcement to make, and I will not tolerate interruption."

The nun's interlude immediately caused both Lily and Roxanne to disregard their argument, the prospect of ridiculing the dumpy woman far more appealing than perpetuating an irrelevant spat.

"If she announces her resignation I think I might flood the dining hall with my tears of joy." Roxanne whispered derisively, causing a smile to flit over Lily's lips, "Maybe she's decided to leave the monastery and find a _man!_"

"_Fat_ _chance_." Lily replied, smirking mischievously, "She probably became a nun because she couldn't find a man in the first place."

Roxanne's suppressed snorts of hilarity were enough to catch the wicked nun's attention, for she turned sharply on her spot and glared in Lily's direction.

"Would you like share your amusing story with everyone else here, _Ms. Evans_?" Sister Agatha communicated in a sickly-sweet hiss, "We are all _ever_ so intrigued."

"I would be more than happy to, Sister." Lily countered discordantly, a rebellious grin lighting her face, "I was just telling Roxanne here how ridiculous you look with your robes on _inside out_."

Roxanne gasped, astonished by Lily's unparalleled perceptiveness, for it was true: Sister Agatha had put on her robes incorrectly, the inside seams prominently on display.

The suddenly seething nun glanced down at her robes and outwardly fumed, her eyes burning harshly as she registered Lily's satisfaction. Everyone—including Lily—knew there was nothing Sister Agatha hated more than being made a fool of, _especially_ by the student she detested the most.

"Dress in the dark this morning, Sister?" Lily inquired coolly, keeping constant eye contact with the enraged headmistress.

"_Follow me_." Sister Agatha replied hoarsely, ignoring Lily's jibe as she stormed into the hallway toward her office. The silence that followed was unsettling; only the sound of the nun's heels clinking against the hardwood floors filled the hushed dining hall.

Lily rose from her seat to follow, winking at a petrified Roxanne before trailing in the nun's wake. As soon as she exited the hall students began to whisper animatedly, most speculating about the punishment she would receive for her insubordination.

"You've really done it this time, Lils." Roxanne whispered forlornly, her eyes filling with concern.

Lily had experienced the inside of Sister Agatha's posh, wood-paneled office many times before, though she could never remember enjoying her stay.

The sterile bureau was covered in bookshelves and paintings, a disgusting portrait of the headmistress hanging in one of the far corners of the space. A large mahogany desk was positioned in the middle of the room, a high-backed leather chair placed behind it, and an antique grandfather clock presided against the wall beside it. Besides the ostentatious furniture, the room was very gloomy, the only window in the office covered by thick satin drapes.

Lily cringed as she looked about the room, her eyes watering and her nostrils burning due to the pungent religious incense. The only feelings the room conjured for her were morbid ones.

"Sit down, _now_." Sister Agatha commanded sharply as Lily entered the room's dark embrace. The nun suspiciously shuffled through one of her lacquered desk-drawers, intent on finding an elusive object hidden within its wooden fortifications.

Lily took a seat on the chair placed in front of the nun's desk and yawned loudly, hoping the flustered woman would become even more infuriated by her disinterest. Lily knew if she intentionally provoked the nun it would result in more misfortune for herself; however, she could not resist, the pleasure it gave her to see the nun's perturbed expression well worth the turmoil.

Her emerald eyes eventually focused on an object Sister Agatha limply placed upon her desk. The entity was about three feet in length, having a strikingly thin and cylindrical body, and was painted an alerting black colour. Lily did not recognize the foreign object, though she likened it to a finely-leathered branch.

"Any idea what this instrument is, or what it does, Ms. Evans?" Sister Agatha inquired innocently, her chubby forefinger stroking the outline of the newly-discovered prize she had been itching to employ.

"Interesting how you refer to that as an _instrument, _Sister." Lily replied evenly, narrowing her eyes at the twisted smile distorting the nun's normally placid and stern face, "I think the appropriate word here is _weapon_, but who knows? Maybe you scratch your bottom with it when nobody is looking?"

"'Tis an instrument of God." Sister Agatha began calmly, eminent possibilities swimming within her squinty eyes: She was apparently so thrilled by the prospect of using the tool that Lily's provocation did not faze her, "It's called _the_ _slipper_. It is newly ordered; you will be the first recipient of two lashes."

"_Such an honour_—" Lily chirped sarcastically, crossing her arms and providing the malicious nun with a challenging grin, "—and all because I rightly pointed out you're too _thick_ to even dress yourself."

Sister Agatha suddenly scraped her chair backward on the lumber floors and jumped to her massive feet, wielding the instrument she called _the_ _slipper _and screaming, "Get out of that chair and show me the palms of your hands, _NOW_!"

Lily courageously emerged from her seat, prepared to endure any physical pain the plump nun threw at her. She would never show fear to the torturous woman, her delicate pride at stake. Within seconds of exposing the palms of her hands, Lily Evans heard the hissing air whistle and the disastrous **crack** of leather upon flesh. She closed her eyes to keep angry tears from trickling down the sides of her cheeks, daring not to look down at her hands.

Once more, the air cracked and sensational stinging plagued the fleshy parts of her hands. The pain was unimaginable; white stars appeared behind her closed eyelids, nausea threatening the back of her throat. Like those silly clowns at festivals and parades, it felt as if she had walked on her hands over mile upon mile of thick, icy snow.

When Lily finally mustered the courage to open her eyes and face the woman she despised more than anyone in the world, she felt nothing but disgust. Sister Agatha's eyes, both cold and superior, roamed over Lily's pathetic, vulnerable state with a predatory hunger. A sadistic sneer crept onto her face as she noted Lily's blotchy, tear-stained skin, the realization that her investment in "the newest innovation in corporal punishment" had been worth it.

As an eerie silence beleaguered the encircling room, Lily's gaze dropped down to her battered and beaten hands. Fresh blood oozed from two clever cuts on each hand—blood which was beginning to congeal and turn a browny-red. An array of rainbow-coloured bruises also began to pattern Lily's palms; she winced, repulsed by the state of them.

"Gather your school texts and deposit them in the attic. The pupils of this fine institution are off to learn proper manners from a very refined and aristocratic lady in London. _Now go__!_" Sister Agatha exclaimed authoritatively, ushering a resentful Lily out of her office and slamming the door shut behind her.

The sound of Lily's tinkling uniform pumps reverberated off of the paneled walls of St. Madeline's school as she made her way towards the attic. She cradled her hands derisorily, hatred and sadness formulating tears in the corners of her eyes.

"_Oh my giddy aunt_! Lily, what happened?" Roxanne cried out from down the hall, running to meet up with her best friend.

Roxanne's shrill inquiry startled Lily, causing her to hide her hands protectively behind her back. As she was in no mood for pity, Lily plastered on a cheerful facade to mask the feelings burning inside of her.

"I just received a stern talking to from the Wicked Witch of the West; nothing to worry about." Lily said laughably, offering a reassuring smile that betrayed her distraught feelings.

"Well that's a bloody relief!" Roxanne exclaimed happily, grinning from ear-to-ear, "Did you hear we are going on a field trip?"

"To learn '_proper manners_'? Yes, but I would hardly call that an amusing field trip." Lily said dryly, mimicking Sister Agatha and rolling her eyes.

Roxanne giggling as Lily imitated the headmistress wobbling about the school, shouting orders at haphazard people and sculptures, never once noticing her massacred hands. Their fun was cut short, however, when another nun spotted them and demanded they convene in the front foyer.

"Go on, Roxanne. I have to bring my books back up to my room. I'll meet up with you in a moment." Lily excused herself, leaving Roxanne to head to the foyer as she clambered up many flights of stairs to arrive at her attic.

Truthfully, all Lily wanted was a private moment to clean up her butchered palms and wallow in self-pity. She sighed and approached the aged trunk in the southwest corner of her beloved attic and untangled the buckle to pry open the lid. Inside the trunk laid a neatly folded linen cloth with small embroidered flowers blooming in its corners. Lily feebly tore the cloth in two and meticulously wrapped each half around her hands, uncaring the fabric. She choked back tears as she performed the tedious task, her badly-beaten hands scarcely able to flex.

Once finished, Lily admired her handy-work, stretching her hands against the fabric. As she did so, she looked out the attic window and noticed the St. Madeline's grounds were filling with animated girls fashioned in navy blue. The exhilarated women were lined up in pairs, readying themselves for the fleeting walk down London's paved boulevards.

As if on cue, the gathered girls started striding down the stone sidewalks, glancing shyly at any young men or boys eyeing them hungrily as they began to depart.

"_No, wait!_" Lily piped feebly, her bottle green eyes growing wide as the realization she was being left behind dawned on her.

Promptly shutting her finely-carved coffer and flattening out her silver-tongued school uniform, Lily Evans hastened out of her fusty living quarters and down the raspy attic stairs. Her glossy rouge ringlets bobbed dizzily as she dashed out of the double-doored exit and spilled onto the St. Madeline's grounds. Common people hugged their newly purchased, brown-bagged groceries tightly to their chests as the spirited female sprinted by in a blur of crimson and cobalt.

* * *

The sound of twittering sparrows and dribbling droplets of spring's dampened kisses mingled splendidly amongst the unflappable, gentle breeze. Within the spidery branches of an ancient willow tree, a charmingly roguish male lay with his chaotic locks entwined in a jumble of leaves cradling his head. Stretched along one of the tree's particularly thick arms like a drowsy lion was James Potter, serenely basking in the silence rarely found in the thunderous environment he called home.

James had been in a surreal state of mind lately, his thoughts continually revisiting to the night he had been in the presence of an angel. He had tried, without success, to rid his mind of the redheaded woman dancing in his every dream, but her graceful presence never seemed to elude him...

"Still hiding in that god-awful tree, Potter?" a sardonic voice demanded comically, the wind lifting the stranger's sarcastic tune to James' ears.

"You would too if you had to endure a mother like mine, Black." James Potter exclaimed in an exasperated tone, an enticing smile curving on his lips as he let one of his legs hang limply from the branch.

"Your mother is no better than the old nutter I have to put up with." Sirius Black called out in utter indignation, "Now, get out of that treebefore I blast you from here to Istanbul."

"Are you even aware of where Istanbul _is_, Sirius? You should really stop trying to sound witty; it never works." James said, his sniggering alarming many of the plumaged species inhabiting the willow tree.

"_No_, I do not know where Istanbul is, _you prat_, nor do I give a rat's arse." Sirius replied moodily, an acerbic expression on his face, "_Now get down here__!_"

Deciding it best to face his intolerant and impetuous friend, James Potter swung his legs over to one side of the thick, coarse branch he occupied and jumped, landing stylishly on both feet when making contact with the ground.

"Why are you hassling me today, Black? I thought I made it clear I'm not in the mood for your antics today." James demanded suavely, a challenging smirk adorning his handsome face as he observed his mate, Sirius Black.

"You haven't been in the mood for _anything_ lately." Sirius complained, shaking his head in a tasteless manner and giving James a pitiful look, "I can't stand you looking po-faced any longer, so I've decided I'm going to quash this mood you've found yourself in."

James rolled his eyes. His best friend, Sirius Black, was one of the most strikingly charismatic men alive. He had dark, coffee-bean coloured eyes, thick brunette tresses and a well-toned body that made him appear godlike. Women literally threw themselves at his feet, his compelling looks and charm apparently overwhelming them to the point of acting like a pack of scrubbers and trollops. Quite unlike the ladies, James thought Sirius was nothing but a plonker and a piss-artist—yet he still loved him like a brother.

"And how, pray tell, are you going to manage that, Sirius?" James inquired flippantly, leaning against the jagged bark of the willow tree.

"If there is one thing I have learned in life, it is how to cheer up a mate." Sirius said inoffensively, an ill-behaved twinkle lingering in his russet eyes, "There are two universal remedies for any males' despondency."

"Is that right?" James asked, carelessly grasping a willow bough above him and swinging like a tamed chimpanzee, "Would you care to enlighten me?"

"_Whiskey and women__! __Brandy and broads__!_ I urge you to take your pick, my friend!" Sirius said wildly, his seductive grin expansive at the prospect of assimilating alcohol with attractive women.

"Such a typical and tasteless thing to come out of your mouth—" James said, mocking a scolding tone as he restrained a maniacal grin, "—yet I expect nothing better from the likes of you."

"_Oh_, come now, James! Two dashing Lords like us could effortlessly court five gorgeous lasses on each arm! Why not lift your melancholy mood and strut about town with me?" Sirius inquired critically, inwardly pondering what could be the matter with him.

"I will not "strut" about town with you because having five women on each arm will not please me nor make me feel improved." James said in a cross between a mumble and a whisper.

Sirius Black watched in sheer astonishment as James plucked his polished wand from his pocket and grumpily made a speckled toadstool—innocently protruding from green blades of grass—explode into a firework display of fungi. Sirius Black was aghast; he had never come across a problem that a few respectable shots of liquor and big-breasted women couldn't fix in a matter of moments.

James continued blasting assorted species of mushrooms into smithereens with a cantankerous look upon his alluring features. Sirius calmly planned his next move as he dusted fungus particles off of his freshly-pressed dress shirt.

"When you have successfully destroyed every defenceless truffle in your garden, would you care to take a chaste stroll 'round town with this ol' chap?" Sirius finally mustered seriously, observing the relenting look passing over James' face with glee.

"As long as you pledge "strutting" and loquacious women aren't concerned." James exclaimed bluntly, sighing in submission as Sirius offered him his arm, as if he were a lady wishing to be escorted.

"Anything for you, Lord Potter." Sirius cooed in a girlish tone, batting his eyelashes in a bizarre way and pouting his lips as he tried to clamp firmly onto James' appendage.

James brusquely shoved Sirius' arm away from his, sending Black flying into the nearby garden partition and providing himself with liberal occasion to unbolt the wrought-iron gate and scuttle fanatically into the crowded streets of London.

"You're queer, Black!" James shouted preposterously before disappearing around the corner in his azure denims and navy-collared shirt.

"I resent that." Sirius Black murmured in indignation as he scrambled to a bipedal position and massaged the back of his aching head.

Once he refocused his eyes, Sirius Black scampered out of the Potter gardens, taking only a few moments to behead one of the impoverished and underprivileged toadstools hidden deep within the dewy lawn during his exiting sprint.

* * *

The snaking crevices between the shabbily tiled sidewalks of London provided Lily Evans with quite the challenge as she hurriedly scampered down the industrious boulevards towards the uniformed cluster of girls walking in pairs. The high-heeled, black-leathered pumps Lily adorned on her feet seemed prone to wedging themselves between the gritty concrete, making her look like an impractical circus performer plagued to swagger the tightrope in heels.

As the distance between Lily and the choir of St. Madeline's girls started to decrease, Lily made the split-second decision to cross the road and assimilate into the paired formation of students, hoping her absence had not yet been noticed. Pointedly checking to see if it was appropriate to cross the street, Lily pierced the lane, not realizing a particularly attractive Lord walking toward her on the adjacent sidewalk was observing her in stunned silence...

She was sheer meters away from joining Roxanne in the cueing line of girls when she felt her heel dig sharply into one of the prominent clefts in the road. She yelped, losing her equilibrium and awkwardly falling to the ground as her heel was wedged into a fissure at a forty-five degree angle.

It was in that moment that Roxanne glanced over her shoulder and glimpsed the pathetic state Lily was in: It was also then that Roxanne observed a posh, wax-kissed motorcar racing toward her friend's fallen figure...

The heel snapped off of the bottom of Lily's shoe, but she did not notice; pulsating pain was searing through the palms of her hands. Hoping to break her fall, she had instinctively outstretched her already savaged hands and landed on then—a move that caused her pain to triple. As Lily was enraptured in her own suffering, she did not notice the speeding vehicle barrelling towards her...

"_LILY__!_" Roxanne screamed shrilly, starting to run and flail toward the redhead like a woman with her hair aflame, "_GET OFF THE STREET__!_"

Lily heard her best friend's shouting and turned, but as she became aware of the jetting vehicle mere feet away from where she gracelessly stood, a strong arm came around her waist and jerked her forward towards the freshly-swept sidewalk.

Yet again, Lily was sprawled on the ground; however, she did not recall the hard concrete ever being so temperate and inviting. She suddenly felt nauseous, her head spinning and her ears ringing. Relenting to darkness, the last thing Lily remembered grasping from the dizzying atmosphere was the concerned chocolate eyes of the man she was laying atop of.

Sirius Black dashed down the sidewalk in search of his messy-haired mate, brushing assorted tree matter out of his way as he did so. He was about to turn down one particularly popular street when he noticed a group of kilt-adorned schoolgirls and red-faced nuns crowding around a fallen couple at the curb of the road. Sirius' eyes nearly bulged out of his skull when he noticed James Potter was one of the persons of interest.

"_Excuse me, gorgeous_; I must get through." Sirius chirped in a profound, yet ebullient voice at one of Lily's peers, causing the female in question to blush deeply and lapse into persistent giggles.

The scene Sirius walked in on was questionable to be sure, for in James Potter's arms lay a redheaded vixen, her head cradled limply in his broad shoulder. It was quite apparent to Sirius that the beautiful schoolgirl had fainted, but even more startling was the concerned look occupying James' eyes as he detained the woman close to his chest.

"What's going on here?" Sirius finally mustered, positioning himself beside the fallen pair.

"Sirius, hold her for a minute, will you?" James inquired in polite struggle, letting Sirius collect Lily in his arms to allow James' ascent upwards.

James Potter got to his feet and lightly swept the dust from his expensive indigo apparel. Once he fixed his glasses properly on the bridge of his nose, James inclined Sirius to give him back the unconscious women; however, he was interrupted by a big-boned, snappish nun.

"You will drop that girl and be on your way, kind sirs." Sister Agatha growled in a superior tone, using her large figure to appear overbearing, "Your..._bravery_ is admirable."

"Excuse me, _madam_—" James cut in sharply, thoroughly annoyed with the nun's distasteful tone, "—but I am taking this woman to see a doctor."

"_Wha_—?" Sirius voiced inaudibly, his jaw unhooked as he stared sceptically at his friend.

"_You most certainly will not_!" Sister Agatha barked indignantly, ready to snatch Lily out of the arms of Sirius and disregard the man, "We will be returning her to the school—not that it's any business of _yours_."

"Do you know who I am, Sister?" James snapped angrily, practically spitting poison at the pompous nun, "I am _Lord_ _James Potter_, and this woman will be coming with me, with or _without_ your approval."

"Lord..._P-P-__Potter_?" Sister Agatha stuttered uneasily, quickly wiping the sweat from her bushy brow as her eyes filled with perturbed culpability, "My apologies, _my Lord__!_ I...I...did not recognize you!"

"Clearly. You will allow me to take this woman to my residence to see a doctor, is that understood?" James exclaimed stoutly, speaking in a regal manner that allowed for no objections.

"_Of course, my Lord__!_" Sister Agatha replied in an overkill of enthusiasm, "Truth be told, _my Lord_, the students and I were on our way to your residence when this _awful _event occurred."

"What is the reasoning for this visit?" James inquired curtly, in no disposition to allow the face-changing trickster of a nun into his mansion.

"Your esteemed mother is conducting an etiquette class, which will provide essential skills needed in the upbringing of fine aristocratic ladies in society." Sister Agatha replied, trying to portray a refined and concerned teacher wishing to improve the lives of her pupils.

"I see. Well, this young lady needs medical assistance, so I will be off." James said tersely, persuading Sirius to pass the lifeless figure of Lily over into his protective arms.

Roxanne pushed her way through the many students standing on tip-toe to catch a glimpse of the two dashing Lords, immensely confused as to why Lord Potter would take on the responsibility of aiding a schoolgirl back to health.

"Good day, ladies." James said suavely, dipping his head low and doing a roundabout towards the Potter estate with Lily tucked contentedly in his arms.

Before Sirius could leave along with James, Roxanne caught up to him, pulling lightly on the sleeve of his white shirt. Sirius Black circled and smiled curiously at the brunette beauty vying for his attention.

"Excuse me, sir, but could you perform a favour for me?" Roxanne inquired politely, unfazed by the man's immeasurable attractiveness.

"Anything for _you_, darling." Sirius replied in a husky voice, his undressing eyes unashamedly scoping out the woman's figure.

"Please, if you could thank Lord Potter for me? If it wasn't for his noble actions, Lily might have been killed today." Roxanne exclaimed genuinely, promptly offering a small curtsy before re-joining the cueing line of girls.

Sirius shrugged and started for the Potter's mansion, inwardly pondering why James had insisted upon caring for the fallen woman. He recognized that the redhead was young and stunning, but James wasn't the type of bloke to take advantage of an ill woman. It was rare for James to even compliment a woman, never mind risk his own aristocratic _arse_ to save one.

"What are you up to, Potter?" Sirius whispered incredulously, his eyes clouded with intensity.

* * *

A delicate, tranquil breeze caressed the cheeks of the sleeping girl, a cordial ray of sunlight kissing her temple and warming the sheets embracing her petit physique. The girl stirred, heaving a contented sigh as she instinctually hugged the silk blankets closer to her body. A small smile passed over her lips as she turned over, her auburn hair splayed across the cream-coloured pillows.

Lily had never felt so at ease with her surroundings—never had a pillow as feathery as a baby chick residing below her head. She felt comfortable, safe, and uncharacteristically relaxed. When her usual feelings and the pleasant atmosphere finally made her feel curious, Lily's eyes fluttered open to behold the extravagant room she inhabited.

_Where am I?_

Lily looked around the room in bewilderment. The bay window to her left was ajar; sunlight bathed the entire space and a soft breeze caused the sheer, silver-trimmed curtains framing the windows to flicker gently. The massive bedroom was lined with mirrors and bookshelves, the floors covered in Persian rugs and the walls in oil paintings and tapestries. Beside the bed resided a walnut nightstand with a small, porcelain bowl atop it filled with a damp cloth, glistening water and a floating slice of lemon.

Lily's astonished attention soon turned to the room's double doors, for the polished knobs jerked and the rustling of tarnished keys sounded. She quickly pulled the duvet covers up to her chest, anxious to learn who was behind the doors.

Once the finely-carved doors were thrust open, a podgy woman wearing a set of snappish white robes and a pair of oddly pointed shoes paraded in, a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied sharply with white string tucked underneath one of her arms. As she busied about, she did not notice Lily consciously and curiously staring at her.

"E-Excuse me, miss?" Lily inquired in a minute, docile voice, sitting up properly in the four- poster bed she was settled in.

"_Holy mother o' pearl!_" the woman exclaimed in fright, dropping the parcel and staring at the redheaded girl, "Yeh gave me a 'right scare there, child!"

"I'm sorry!" Lily said apologetically, still unsure of where she resided and why, "Could you please tell me where I am?"

"How are yeh feeling, m'darlin? Haven't developed o' fever, hav' yeh?" the harried woman asked in an Irish-tinged accent, ignoring Lily as she picked up the fallen parcel and deposited it on the end of the bed.

"I..._um_…doubt it?" Lily replied in confusion as the woman rushed to her side, dampened a cloth in the cool lemon water and slapped it onto her forehead.

"Yeh can call me Mrs. O'Leary." the curvy woman explained, holding the linen cloth to Lily's skull despite her protests, "The doctor says yeh'll be fine by tomorro'. Aren't yeh glad? Now, must be off...lots to do, yeh know!"

Before Lily could respond, Mrs. O'Leary dumped the linen textile back into the porcelain bowl and removed herself from the edge of her expansive bed. Lily silently watched as she gathered up a pile of laundry and exited the room without another word.

"I managed a lot of information out of her..." Lily mumbled satirically, wiping away the water which had slithered down her neck from the damp cloth. As she dabbed at the wet droplets, Lily noticed the white, silk slip she adorned for the first time...

"She can be a smidgen self-absorbed, can't she?" a voice announced roguishly from the doorway, causing Lily to become aware of the man who had quietly entered the room, unnoticed. Her emerald eyes stared in the direction of the teasing voice, growing wide at the vision of James Potter waltzing cavalierly—hands dug deeply into his azure jean pockets—towards her indisposed form.

"_James_?" Lily sputtered in utter astonishment, her rose lips parting in bewilderment as she pulled the burgundy and gold embroidered duvet up to her chin meekly.

The burning ginger sun illuminated Lily's red hair splendidly, creating a fiery crown that contrasted wonderfully with her pale skin. James paused: It took all of his self-control not to walk up to her and run his fingers through her beautiful rouge mane...

"Surprised to see me, Lily?" James drawled casually, his eyes betraying his flippancy and alighting with cheerfulness, "I do recall mentioning I would see you again."

"And it seems, yet again, you have encountered me when I am most vulnerable." Lily replied in saucy contempt, reeling from the shock of seeing him, "Does it please you to see me in such a susceptible disposition?"

"I thought I made it clear that it pleases me to see you in _any_ disposition." James exclaimed teasingly, leaning up against one of the lacquered posts belonging to his bed frame, "However, that drenched gown of yours pleased me, too."

"If I possessed the strength to slap you for your perverse remark, I would." Lily said testily, though she inwardly blushed deeply at his mischievous comment.

"You would be so bold as to slap a _lord_, Ms. Evans? You would cause quite the scandal." James remarked in merriment, sitting on the edge of his plush mattress while he watched Lily squirm uncomfortably because of his close proximity, "I suppose you glory in risk-taking, though, don't you? I think our last encounter is evidence enough of that."

"I do enjoy the occasional risk—" Lily said simply, a small smile tugging at the edge of her mouth, "—and yes, I would not hesitate to slap a provoking Lord, should he deserve it."

"I will keep my distance, then." James commented, smiling seductively at the feisty redhead and cocking one eyebrow pompously, "Or...perhaps I won't."

"If you want to avoid bodily harm, I suggest you do." Lily said, shaking her head in amusement.

"Imagine," James replied hotly, mocking insult, "striking the very person that saved your life."

"I don't recall you saving anyone's life, never mind _mine_." She scrunched up her nose and childishly stuck out her tongue; James found the gesture immensely adorable.

"You don't remember me pushing you out of that speeding motorcar's path?" James inquired quizzically, "Because I valiantly risked my own neck for your silly well-being, you know."

"If that is true, I shall not praise you for doing so." Lily grinned cheekily, twisting strands of illuminated red around her elegant, battered fingers; she was, however, inwardly impressed by his chivalry, "It seems that you have praised your own actions enough as it is."

"_Ouch_! That's a blow to my ego." James exclaimed, placing his right hand over his beating heart and feigning immeasurable sorrow, "I will never save such an ungrateful woman again!"

Lily's ashen cheeks acquired a rosy flush as she laughed gaily at James' facial expressions and painful groans; she enjoyed glimpsing the juvenile, boyish side of his character—something he had not shown her before.

"But really, why am I here?" Lily inquired after her hilarity had evaporated like dew on a summer's eve, "If what you say is true, why am I not back at the school resting?"

"I didn't think that elephant-of-a-nun would take proper care of you." James said, careful not to seem too concerned for the redhead's well-being as he recalled the event, "She's a foul creature to reason with."

"I'm assuming you are referring to _Sister Agatha_." Lily spat distastefully, her eyes alighting with anger and humiliation, "She remains a foul creature twenty-four hours of the day, might I add."

"Was I right to think she wouldn't have attended to you suitably?" James inquired.

"Let's just say if I had been hit by that car, Sister Agatha would've laughed rather than cried." Lily said sourly, her stare retracting from James to her freshly-bandaged palms. James noticed Lily wince in pain and also took in the appearance of her dressed hands.

"What's happened to your hands?" James inquired in sceptical curiosity, "They're not a product of this morning."

"I...was punished for talking back to Sister Agatha." Lily said regretfully, avoiding eye contact with the alluring Lord, "I often provoke her; it's my own fault."

James' eyes grew wide at the thought of Sister Agatha hurting Lily. He could not fathom why anyone would want to cause damage to her exquisite features, or fill her eyes with painful tears; it was a concept beyond his besotted comprehension. Fury suddenly bubbled in his chest.

"She is a wretched _monster_ of a woman." James practically shouted, jumping to his feet with apparent anger swimming in his eyes, "I'll have her sacked for having the _nerve_—"

"You can't do that!" Lily sputtered fearfully, whipping the bed dressings off of her and running to the double-doors before James could make a swift exit. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as she used her body and long limbs to block him from utilizing the door.

"_Lily__!_ You shouldn't be out of bed!" James expressed in urgency, inwardly scolding himself for wondering what lay hidden beneath the semi-transparent slip she wore.

"I can't let you sack Sister Agatha! The satisfaction of knowing she gets to me would ruin my reputation at school! My pride is at stake!" Lily said in an exasperated tone. She clung to the doorframe to sustain her equilibrium, feeling dizzy and nauseous.

"_Pride? _Good lord, you're trembling. Get back to bed!" James demanded firmly, worriedly watching Lily's unstable state, his gaze fixated on her quaking limbs.

"_Not until you promise__!_" Lily stubbornly asserted, feeling faint. As her wobbly legs gave out, James expertly caught her fragile body in his brawny arms, lifting her off the ground.

"_My god_, injure yourself further why don't you?" James sighed in concerned annoyance, one arm grasping Lily around her waist while the other lingered above one of her knees.

"Well, if you hadn't gone on a _bloody_ rampage—_watch_ _where your hands are_!" Lily yelped meekly, squirming uncomfortably as one of James' hands started to slide under her slip.

"Sorry." James said throatily, internally fighting his biological urges as he deposited the scantily-clad girl back onto his bed, "Don't you dare get up again, hear?"

"I won't have reason to if you swear you won't go badgering Sister Agatha about me." Lily retorted stubbornly, her legs tingling from where James had touched her.

"_Fine_." James sighed, shaking his head in disapproval as his mouth twitched in amusement, "I won't go see _Agatha _if you promise not get out of bed, you insane woman."

"It's a deal...and I'm not insane."

Lily pulled the bed dressings over her bare legs and comfortably situated herself in an upright position as James begrudgingly watched her naked skin disappear under the mess of covers. He sighed and plucked the cold cloth from the water bowl and handed it to the girl.

"Should I start addressing you as Dr. Potter?" Lily inquired, plumping up a pillow behind her before excepting the cloth, "I don't believe even a real doctor would be as insistent as you."

"Well I can't have you collapsing all over the place." James said in a mock-serious tone, "My arms are getting tired from continually having to pick you up."

"Hey!" Lily chirped laughably, throwing her freshly-plumped pillow at James' head and depositing the cloth back in the bowl, "And here I thought you were concerned for my well-being!"

"I don't want my arms to fall off!" James playfully countered, fixing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose as his laughter mingled with Lily's and filled the room with tinkling snorts and shrieks.

"_How insulting__!_" Lily sputtered, her mouth narrowing into a criminal smile, "Now I shall have to behead you with this pillow, _my Lord__!_"

"You may try, _my Lady_, but if you attempt such an endeavour I will have to do something unthinkable." James said slyly, his husky voice sending chills down Lily's spine.

"And _that_ would be?" Lily inquired challengingly.

Many sensual and kinky ideas swam through James' one-track mind; however, he pushed such tarnished thoughts aside and quickly formulated a more innocent answer.

"_Tickle you_, of course." James said simply, a chaste smile appearing on his handsome, roguish face.

As if on cue, Lily plucked a black satin pillow from behind her back and hit James in the head with it, knocking the glasses off of his face and causing him to holler in hilarious indignation. With a laughably contemptuous look upon his face, James jumped onto his bed and started to prickle Lily's sides, sending her into spasms of giggles and screams of injustice.

"_James__!_" Lily yelped shrilly, unable to maintain composure or hide her laughter, "_Stop it__!_"

"Not until you say I'm your hero!" he returned impishly, feeling gleeful; her contagious laughter was foreign to his ears, for in his aristocratic life he hadn't been exposed to enough of it, "Go on, say it and I'll stop!"

"_Never__!_" she persisted tenaciously, desperately trying to squirm away from his probing hands.

"Then you must face the consequences!"

After nearly five minutes Lily stopped wriggling, feeling out of breath. Thinking he had won, James restrained Lily with his body and smiled down at her triumphantly; however, as she was determined not to lose the childish game, Lily seductively reached out and snaked her arms around James' back, surprising him as she pulled him down to her level. With both of their chests pressed against one another's and James dazed by her apparent seduction, Lily stealthily maneuvered herself on top of him and pinned his arms to his sides.

"I underestimated you, Ms. Evans." James Potter gutturally whispered in surprise; he tried desperately to keep his eyes away from the camisole that was riding up towards her thighs and her provocative cleavage which—from his position beneath her—was ample.

"So you did..." Lily replied softly, suddenly hyper-aware of their entangled bodies.

Lily and James' breathing suddenly became laboured, though not because of their playful struggle. Silence filled the room, only the soft breeze whistled in their ears and caressed their faces. James' brown, purple-flecked eyes locked with Lily's emerald ones; his hand, which was situated on the back of Lily's leg, slowly began to ascend upwards. His forefinger had barely grazed Lily's satin slip when the sound of fidgeting keys and churning doorknobs rattled throughout the room...

"_Bloody hell_." Lily heard James murmur in annoyance as she quickly—and with an embarrassed blush on her face—got up off of James and dug her legs under the duvet covers.

James begrudgingly picked up his elusive, wire-rimmed glasses and fixed them onto his dashing face once again. Speedily smoothing out his navy-collared shirt, he sat at the end of the bed again, looking up to see Lily nervously fidgeting with the surged gold hem of the bed dressings.

"_Oh my heavens__!_" Mrs. O'Leary bellowed upon entering the room and spotting James alone with Lily, "What in the name of _Merlin_ are yeh doing 'ere, Lord Potter?"

"I came to check on Ms. Evans." James announced in a formal tone, his playful, boyish side evaporating in the presence of the housekeeper.

"Don't yeh know that's _my_ job, Lord Potter?" the Irish house-keeper stated more than inquired, flushing deeply as she soaked another cloth in the lemon water and slapped it onto Lily's forehead, "Yer dear mother had been searchin' 'round the house like a mad woman trying 'ter find yeh!"

Lily wriggled painfully as droplets of acidic lemon water slithered down her forehead and stung her eyes.

"_I don't care_ if my mother—"

"Stop stallin', Lord Potter!" Mrs. O'Leary bellowed like a perturbed hen, ignoring him as she had ignored Lily, "Can't leave yer mother waiting, now can we?"

James was unwillingly shooed out of his magnificent, well-furbished room and into the adjacent corridor; he rolled his eyes and gave Lily a half-hearted, apologetic smile before disappearing behind a gleaming suit of armour.

"What was that boy thinkin'?" Mrs. O'Leary inquired in a curious huff, seemingly talking to herself instead of addressing Lily, "Never know what ter expect from him next!"

Lily chose to remain silent as the disconcerted maid busied herself in the room, believing it unwise to interrupt her agitated chatter. She watched the woman approach the hearth of the fireplace and pluck something from her apron pocket to ignite it. Lily frowned when the fire lit instantaneously, engulfing each log within seconds—a feat which she knew was not possible with a simple match.

"How did you—?"

"_Nevermind__!_" Mrs. O'Leary barked brusquely, continuing to flick about the room like a bee in search of honey, "Yeh'd best be getting ter sleep, now. I left yeh a tray of food on the foot of yer bed; eat up and then off to bed, yeh hear?"

Lily inclined her head to the foot of her bed and sceptically eyed the silver tray filled with assortments of bread, cheese and vegetables. A goblet filled to the brim with a steaming liquid also occupied the gleaming surface. She puckered her brow; she was certain the tray before her had not entered with Mrs. O'Leary only moments ago...

Before exiting the massive, elegant room for the second time, Mrs. O'Leary shut the silky drapes over the bay windows tightly. Gathering up more laundry in her arms, the house-keeper left via the double doors and—once outside—locked it shut.

Though the hot fire crackled and snapped comfortably, Lily felt oddly alone without James occupying the foot of his four-poster bed. She gently picked up the goblet of liquid on her food tray and, with pursed lips, sipped it. The spicy liquid trickled down her throat and filled her with warmth; she was sure she had never tasted something so delicious before.

With no external means of entertainment, Lily contemplated the situation she had awoken too. She had been certain she would never set eyes upon James Potter again—unless the front page of the city newspaper counted—yet she had been wrong. Seeing him again had changed her perception of him, for he no longer seemed to be _just_ an aristocratic Lord bent on authority and chivalry, but a playful, charming twenty-year-old man who wasn't afraid to laugh and tease.

Lily stretched out in James' colossal bed after finishing her supper, her subtle curls cascading over the snow-coloured pillows as her mind swam with thoughts and images of him. Lost in thought, she did not notice two beady eyes peering over the edge of the four-poster bed at her as she softly drifted back into a slumbering state…

* * *

James stepped into the sizeable, windowed room fashioned in cherry marble and looked around. The ceiling of the room was a complex dome comprised of translucent, frosted glass; around its perimeter were colourful plants—most imported from exotic locations— framed in porcelain pots. He scowled: The conservatory was Marissa Potter's favourite room in the extensive manor and therefore a place he deliberately avoided.

"You _beckoned_ for me?" James inquired rudely, bitterly observing the lounging figure of his mother from beneath the doorframe of the conservatory.

Marissa Potter loafed elegantly on her Parisian chase lounge, previously oblivious to her son's presence. With the sound of his impatient tone reaching her ears, she casually inclined her head toward him, her brown, purple-tinged eyes sweeping his attire critically: "Please assure me you did not dart about town wearing those _hideous_ denims, James Gerald."

"What do you want?" James retorted, anger started to bubble because of his mother's nonsensical disparagement and superior manner. He felt more irritated with her than usual, unhappy he had to leave Lily's side for her incessant lecturing.

"I demand manners from you, James Gerald." Marissa hissed cuttingly, her eyes narrowing into menacing slits as she addressed her son, "I called you here because a _disturbing _occurrence has come to my attention."

"What? Did I forget to tuck my shirt into my pants? Did I accidentally use the wrong fork at lunch? You and I have different definitions of the word _disturbing_, Mother." James countered dryly.

"You've gone too far this time." Marissa Potter said scathingly, ignoring James' jibs as she removed herself from her lounge and let the train of her royal blue dress trail behind her, "Why on _earth_ is there a _muggle peasant_ in my home?"

"She may be a muggle, but she attends St. Madeline's just like Justine, _your daughter_, did." James snapped quickly, his brow furrowed in upset, "Will you be referring to Justine as a peasant soon, too?"

"You know I only sent her there because she's a _squib__!_" Marissa fired back, looking outwardly upset at the notion of her daughter possessing no magical ability, "She would have been placed in Hogwarts or _Beauxbatons_ had she been otherwise."

"_Precisely_. You don't even realize how hypocritical you're being, looking down upon this girl when she is the same status as your own daughter." James said, feeling instinctually compelled to defend Lily.

"Justine is of _noble_ birth!" Marissa lashed back in denial; "You are reverting from the original question. What is that..._girl…_doing in my house?"

"That _girl_ has a name. I saved Lily's life. She is ill and the nuns from St. Madeline's were not properly equipped to aid her." James spoke firmly, staring into the cold, granite eyes of his frosty-tongued mother, "She will be remaining here until tomorrow morning."

"_This is_ _absurd...__absolutely_ _preposterous_! If your father were home he would surely have kicked that _muggle_ to the curb." Marissa spat bitterly, picking up her peacock feather fan from a glass table beside the lounge and fanning herself irritably.

"I was under the impression you were joining him in Cairo tonight." James stated, choosing to ignore his mother's prejudiced manner, "Isn't there some _grand gala_ being held in his honour?"

"Yes, I shall be departing within the hour." Marissa spoke coolly, stroking the stem of her beloved venomous tentacula, which she had imported from Portugal; as the exotic plant had been cruelly tamed, it did not try to bite or gore her.

"Excellent." James said cheerfully, bounding up the polished marble steps and out of the conservatory despite his mother's protests about Lily, "In my opinion, the sooner you leave, the _better_."

"_JAMES GERALD!_" Marissa shrieked in utter outrage and indignation, her purple eyes flashing furiously, "_I WANT THAT MUGGLE GIRL GONE, DO YOU HEAR ME?_"

James Potter slammed the double doors of the conservatory closed, causing them to shatter and scatter shards of sharp glass all over the marble floors. The clinking of glass and marble echoed in the conservatory; Marissa's screech of vehemence accompanied the noise.

"Master Potter, sir!" a timid, tea cosy-adorning house-elf squeaked meekly, following in the wake of James, "Where is Master Potter going? Can Libby get Master Potter some supper?"

"I'm going back to my study...then perhaps to visit Ms. Evans." James said softly, sharply turning a corner to the extensive library, "Supper won't be necessary."

"What will Master Potter do when he sees Ms. Evans?" Libby asked in a perplexed and high-pitched voice, her bowl-shaped eyes glazed over in curiosity.

"Perhaps I shall invite her to stay at the mansion longer." James added conversationally, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth pleasantly.

"But, Master Potter, sir!" Libby peeped in awe-inspired fright, her spindled and wrinkled fingers jittering nervously, "Mistress Potter will be furious, sir!"

"_Exactly_."

James left the bemused house-elf and entered the Potter library, an octagonal room positively littered with books on every magical subject imaginable. Flopping down comfortably into a leather chair, James summoned three books with his wand. Fixing his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, he delved into three particular volumes: _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_ by Wilhelm Wigworthy, _Muggles Who Notice_ by Blenheim Stalk, and finally _The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why Muggles Prefer Not to Know_ by the eccentric Professor Mordicus Egg.

"Now to find out what makes you tick, Ms. Evans." James softly whispered, flipping through numerous mouth-eaten pages containing information on muggles with a content smile curved on his handsome face.

* * *

Author's Notes

Please continue to read & review!

-pratty-prongs-princesse

PS…enjoying the story so far? "Like" Petal in the Rain by pratty-prongs-princesse on Facebook to receive commentary from the author, an in-depth look at characters and chapters, material from upcoming chapters, and to interact with fellow fans!


	4. Chapter 4

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 4- Hide and Seekin'

_If we were children I would bake you a mud pie  
Warm and brown beneath the sun  
Never learned to clima a tree, but I would try  
Just to show you what I'd done_

_Oh what I wouldn't do  
If I had you babe, I had you._

-A Fine Frenzy

* * *

A shaft of dancing light pierced the transparent bay windows at the end of the baroque room, revealing a patch of mirror above the fireplace on the opposite wall. Prosaic luminosity bounced off the reflective surface and onto the face of a sleeping beauty, whose placid face held hints of pearly aspirations. She wore a serene smile—the product of one of the happiest sleeps she had ever had...

…then it came crashing end.

Lily abruptly jerked awake, the established quiet in the room where she slept brutally shattered by a crooked, knobby-legged creature who had accidentally dropped a silver tray of biscuits and tea…

"_Wah_?" Lily muttered in tired surprise as she sat upright in her bed, incoherently squinting through her swollen lids at the scene before her. As her eyes adjusted and focused, she took in the quivering, bony frame of a wrinkled little hobgoblin with orbs the circumference of pancakes. She blinked, frozen in shock as the gnome-like being matched her stare with a mixture of fear and insecurity, its big, bulbous eyes beginning to well over with tears.

She realized she wasn't dreaming anymore.

* * *

Suddenly, throughout the corridors and twisting hallways of Potter Manor—a usually quiet dwelling—there echoed two pronounced screams, one of which belonged to James Potter's newest houseguest.

James, who had been quietly feasting on poached eggs and rye toast in manor's main kitchen, heard Lily's mangled cry and instinctually sprang up from the barstool he occupied, accidentally sending it flying backwards into a cabinet full of glassware. Realizing her screaming was coming from his bedroom, he abandoning his ceramic plate of breakfast food and pounded up the carpeted stairs toward Lily's bawling, the muscles in his legs reflexing in panic.

Entering a hallway housing multiple door frames and fresco paintings in a full-out sprint, James came to a halt when he noticed Percival, one of the manner's house-elves, lying in front of his bedroom door with his fingers stuck in his ears, likely to mask the screaming. Timidly, the house-elf looked up at him.

"M-M-M-Mas-Master!" the tearful house elf stuttered, crawling toward James' feet and laying his rotund head on the Lord's shoes, "I d-d-didn't mean to awake the miss! I is s-s-s-so clumsy and I—"

"Don't worry." James promptly quipped in an assuring fashion, helping Percival to his feet, "You mustn't let it happen again, understand? Our house guest is a muggle; she doesn't know we're a mansion full of wizards and elves."

"M-M-Master! Percival is s-s-s-sorry!" the house elf sobbed, his chicken-like legs quaking and his lip trembling uncontrollably.

"Stop crying, Percival. I need you to do something for me." James pressed in almost a whisper, patting the creature's back, "You must silence all the portraits. Absolutely forbid them to move, including Uncle Falco, understand? Also, de-gnome the garden and lock the conservatory door so Lily doesn't stumble upon the poisonous tantacula. Go."

The house-elf obediently scurried away, squashing a spidery finger to his lips in an inclination to silence the babbling portraits outside. Once the house-elf was out of sight, James entered his elaborate bedroom without knocking to console the shrieking girl inside.

Spotting a foot protruding from a curled lump in the middle of his bed, James realized Lily Evans was hidden beneath the sheets of her bed. Feeling mischievous, he approached the redhead inaudibly and reached out to snatching her around the ankle: This caused the schoolgirl to wail and wriggle out of his unyielding grasp.

"Lily!" James soothed, grinning as he pulling the duvet off of her china doll face, "It's just me!"

"James!" Lily yelped in alarm, looking around the room in fright and clutching James' forearm. She pulled James onto the bed beside her and covered the both of them in linen, a swift move that took him by surprise.

Below the tent of textile, James untangled himself from a pillow and looked into the apprehensive eyes of Lily Evans, who was still clamped onto his muscled arm. Regretfully, James let his mind wander and envision other events that could be taking place under the silk sheets...

"What are we doing?" James asked bluntly, barely hiding a beam as he observed Lily's petrified features, "Why were you screaming?"

"_Shhhh!_ You mustn't speak too loudly." Lily hissed more than whispered, ignoring James' look of amusement, "There's some sort of animal in the room. _I just saw it_!"

"What? You must have been dreaming." James countered kindly, giving Lily a comforting look, "It's early, the light was probably playing tricks on you—"

"Light does _not_ create solid, _shrieking_ illusions." Lily retorted, her forehead creasing as she frowned, "I swear there _was_ something. Do you have any pets in the house?"

"No…but I'll poke around a bit to make sure it's gone." James declared, encouraging Lily's tale to prevent her from getting angry at him for patronizing her, "A wild squirrel probably got in through the balcony window or something."

Lily watched as James unlatched himself from her arm and began inspecting the room, thoroughly checking behind curtains, under the bed, and even beneath the carpets. He wore a pair of black denim jeans and a black T-shirt that clung to his toned chest, giving him the look of a laid-back criminal _every_ girl lusted after. His attire was blatantly casual, yet he had a regal, majestic manner that showed in his every move. Lily looked away as he caught her watching him, blushing.

"I don't see anything, Lily." James declared, grinning as she popped her head out from under the expensive, threaded covers again, "Why don't we forget about this and have breakfast? Will you dress and join me?"

Lily relented and got out of James' bed, sheets still coddling her body because of the humidity. She eyed the room nervously, as if the creature would return at any moment, but eventually relaxed and turned her attention toward the British Lord.

"Any idea where my school uniform is?" Lily commented, wondering what she had to dress into, "Last time I saw it, my kilt and shirt were rumpled on the ground somewhere…"

"I expect Mrs. O'Leary is having them washed and pressed." James replied intelligibly, "She'll probably have your garments ready by this evening."

"_This evening?_ What am I to wear, then?"

"Well." James began, his eyes twinkling like diminutive chocolate stars, "If you prefer prancing around in the _nude_, I won't object."

"No, I don't suppose _you_ would." Lily fired back feistily, her eyes narrowing into a teasing glare, "I'll follow your lead."

"If you insist." James replied simply, digging his fingers under the brim of his noir shirt and peeling it upward, exposing his toned abdominal muscles.

"_I was only joking_!" Lily yelped, failing to keep her voice from squeaking as her eyes quickly darted away from his chiselled pecks.

"You aren't blushing, are you?" James commented impishly, his roguish gaze unwavering as he speculated what she may be thinking or feeling.

"_No_." Lily insisted, storming pass James and towards his mahogany wardrobe, trying to shield her face from betraying anymore of her emotions, "Now, do you have any dresses, or must I resort to wearing _your_ clothing?"

James had known Lily for a very short time, yet he was already teasing her and talking to her without formality—something he had never done with any woman so quickly, ever. It was _refreshing_. Lily made him feel astonishingly normal…a freeing feeling that he craved.

"I bought you a dress."

Lily peered over her shoulder at James, who was leaning against a bedpost, with absolute bewilderment written boldly across her features. The only presents she had ever received were from Roxanne, but Sister Agatha, who would accuse her of stealing from the other girls, often confiscated the beautiful trinkets.

"You bought a dress for _me_?" Lily inquired sceptically, her face looking quite distraught as James' twisted in confusion.

"I didn't take you for the type of woman to lounge in the buff, so..._yes_, I bought you a dress." James explained slowly and uneasily, watching for any hint of emotion on the redhead's face, "Is that...a problem?"

"No...but I'm afraid I haven't the funds to repay you." Lily murmured faintly, worry glazing over her eyes, "P-Perhaps if I—?"

"_Repay_ me?" James demanded unbelievingly, folding his arms and staring at the stuttering girl as if she had grown another head, "I would _never_ ask a lady to repay me for a _gift_."

"But...I—"

"A gentleman would _never_ be so undignified as to present a lady with a gift and ask for something in return."

"Don't be _silly_, I'll—" Lily stammered, her gaze dropping to the floor in embarrassment.

"_Lily_, I'm giving you this dress because I _want_ to." James explained, cupping his hand under Lily's chin to direct her gaze from the ground to his encouraging face, "I hope I haven't offended you somehow?"

"No! No…I'm sorry." Lily apologized, her naïve features looking reflecting her sincerity, "It's just…I'm not accustomed to receiving gifts."

She couldn't help but think how much she liked his smooth hands caressing her face…

"Then I'll have to change that." James proclaimed resolutely, snatching the parcel Mrs. O'Leary had brought into the room the previous morning and handing it to Lily, "Once you're dressed, meet me in the front hallway and we'll eat breakfast in the gardens."

James strode out of the expansive room without another word, his conversation with Lily leaving him agitated and miffed. He suddenly thought about Lily's appalling treatment at St. Madeline's. Living in a mulish, decrepit attic with every spider imaginable was trying enough, but being lashed across the hands and without any embellishment or gifts was another. A deep loathing began formulating in the pit of James' stomach.

In his mind, _no one_ had the right to inflict pain upon Lily.

* * *

Lily was left utterly speechless, idly entwining her fingers with the white strings gripping the package James Potter had handed her. With the mention of her rarely receiving gifts, James' attitude had changed from teasing to _fuming_ within seconds. Lily felt sick, like she was about to wretch, as a thought sprung up in her mind. _Maybe he's finally realizing how pathetically poor I am._

Her wonderings were abruptly interrupted as Mrs. O'Leary shuffled into James' room only minutes after his departure, her pointed leather shoes scuffing the floor. On one hip she totted a basket full of fresh towels, while in her right hand she clutched a finely carved comb made of whalebone. Her face was slightly flushed and bits of wispy, untameable hair stuck out of her poorly composed bun.

"There ye' be, dear!" Mrs. O'Leary exclaimed loudly, abandoning her wooden laundry basket and plucking a towel from its bosom, "Bout time ye' woke up! Ye've got ter wash up and get dressed, m' love!"

Before Lily was able to respond, she felt herself blush in disbelief as Mrs. O'Leary pulled her silk cameo over her head, leaving her standing naked in the middle of the room. The older woman grasped Lily by the arm and led her toward the bedroom exit, ignoring Lily's outraged protests as she opened the door.

"You don't expect me to go out into the hall like _this_?" Lily demanded in a high-pitched voice, covering herself up with her hands, "_What if James walks by_?"

"I wouldn't worry, m' dear." Mrs. O'Leary replied, chuckling at the redhead, "You've _very_ pretty curves! I'm sure Lord Potter wouldn't be offended in the slightest if e' ran into you!"

Lily, scandalized, broiled over in humiliation as she was lead down the hallway, completely stripped, by Mrs. O'Leary. She fumed as the woman disregarded her discretion and laughed at her distress. As she prayedJames wouldn't come walking down the furbished hallway, she recoiled, catching something in her peripherals.

One of the male portraits was eyeing her enthusiastically, chuckling in the back of his elderly throat…

"Jus' in here, m'love!" Mrs. O'Leary shouted, ushering Lily into a room filled with large basins of water and baskets of soap that smelled like cucumber, "I'll get ye' all washed up, perhaps fix yer' hair a bit."

Lily felt helpless as O'Leary herded her into a bathtub in the far corner of the lavishly tiled room. The housekeeper picked up a pail of warm water and dumped it over Lily's head, giving her shudders as the liquid trickled down her neck and pooled in the porcelain drum. She began scrubbing Lily's back with a coarse sponge, making her flinch in pain, and the longer she continued the more Lily began to resent her for so boorishly breaching her privacy.

After the redhead was washed and her damp hair brushed, Mrs. O'Leary began drying Lily's tresses with a towel, despite the her protests, and twisted her red locks into curls, bunching some atop her head in a regal up-do.

"S'not often Mr. Potter has lady friends over at the house." Mrs. O'Leary clucked like a chortling chicken, talking enough to cramp the voided silence, "Been in a _strange _mood this last month, like e' got a good bout o' _dragon pocks_!"

Lily had been tuning the old woman out, her ineffectual chatter giving her a headache, but perked up when she heard the term "_dragon pocks"_. It was all she needed to become _convinced_ the woman had an addled brain.

"Mr. Potter is the most inflexible man I've yet to meet." Mrs. O'Leary continued, pulling hard on Lily's hair, "Jus' like 'is father, he is! Never lettin' anyone get in 'is way!"

Once Mrs. O'Leary finished with Lily's hair, she stood back to admire her work. With a sewing needle betwixt her teeth and a load of soiled towels tucked underneath her bosom, the babbling housekeeper disappeared down the mansion hallway in a torrent of whistling and humming, leaving Lily with fresh lace undergarments to change into and not another word.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Lily enthusiastically eyed the parcel James had left her and impatiently undid the white strings enclosing the russet wrapping. Clawing apart the parcel, Lily's eyes widened at the sight of an attractive blonde dress lying pleasingly within.

The dress wasn't formal or classy, yet it demanded attention with its pretty, shimmering golden bands and soft, sheer material. Around the waist the dress was _very_ form fitting and made of a yellow silk, while the chest and bottom of the dress was comprised of layers upon layers of gossamer textile.

When Lily tried the gown on and sought her reflection in the restroom mirror, she gasped. She'd _never_ looked _so _good and been so clean. Her hair was stylish and appealing, while her dress was simply _astonishing_.

A grandfather clock in the hallway began to chime, prompting Lily to go and find James Potter. Oddly enough, she felt flushed and self-conscious as she exited the room and walked toward the patterned staircase, feeling more exposed in her new dress than she had been in her silk slip.

* * *

James Potter impatiently sat on a crushed velvet chair near the bottom of the staircase, periodically snapping open his pocket watch and examining the time. He had been brewing various plots in his mind, but nothing had yet surfaced that would work effectively to help Lily's situation at school. Just as the grandfather clock at the top of the stairs began to chime, the manor's doorbell tittered harshly.

"That better not be my publicist." James murmured in annoyance, sprinting toward the mahogany double doors that acted as the manor's entrance.

Instead of beholding his portly publicist, who usually adorned a mouth-eaten suit and a bushy beard, James grudgingly observed _Miss Collins_, the buxom, blonde bombshell who made it her mission in life to pursue him. She was wearing a _very_ low cut gown, bought at the most expensive shop in London, and, atop her perfectly curled head, a fashionable hat with feathers poking out at the sides. James thought she looked absurd and immediately began planning on how to get rid of her.

"_James_!" Miss Collins exclaimed in a deep, sultry tone usually reserved for seduction, "I'm_ ever _so glad to see you."

"Good day, Miss Collins." James spoke impassively, excitement and gladness draining from his face, "May I ask what you're doing here?"

"Oh, silly _James_!" Miss Collins cooed like a turtledove, parting her lips in an alluring fashion and mocking outrage, "How many times must I insist you call me _Alexis_?"

"I suppose one more time cannot hurt." James bluntly replied, folding his arms over his chest, which flaunted his strong arms as the muscles tightened.

"You're _such_ a tease!" Alexis Collins announced with a tantalizing smile, "Now, how much longer will you make me stand out here in the cold? I might shiver to death!"

James _hardly_ sympathized with the prissy woman. Lily had been sopping wet outside at _night_ and hadn't complained once, while _Alexis _was complaining about contracting chills in multiple layers of clothing in late April. James wished high society women were taught anatomy instead of etiquette so they could learn they owned a _backbone_.

"I'm terribly sorry, _Ms. Collins_, but I haven't the time for company. I'm very busy this morning." James emphasized sternly, hoping the blonde would turn around and march her _frilly_ _ass_ back to Manchester.

"But James!" Alexis spoke in a troubled tone, "Didn't your mother inform you that she'd arranged a private meeting for the _two_ of _us_? Your mother made sure your calendar was open…"

"No, she did _not_ inform me." James snapped back, getting aggravated and letting the formal, polite manner in his voice slowly seep away, "Unfortunately I do not have the time for you, Miss Collins, and I beg your pardon."

James curtly nodded his head at the beautiful vixen and began closing the door, but Alexis wedged her foot between the frame and wood, preventing this from taking place.

"_What are you doing_—?"

"_James_." Alexis Collins whispered breathlessly, using her upper arms to discreetly push her breasts closer together to increase her cleavage and catch James' eye, "I promise you I'm not like many high society women you've met. Let me show you how..._unladylike_ I can be..."

"James?" Lily Evans inquired incredulously, innocently perched on the bottom step of the grand staircase and wondering why James was peeking out the door, his face contorted in subdued temper, "Is something wrong?"

"Lily." James whispered, turning his attention toward the redhead and ignoring Miss Collins' sexual advances. His expression ignited as he glimpsed Lily in her new dress, "You look—"

"Who's _this_?" Alexis demanded sweetly, interrupting James as she scathingly eyed Lily with hidden scorn, "I don't believe we've met?"

"No, it's not likely you have." James began, regaining his composure and lordly facade, "Lily, this is my..._associate_, Miss Collins, and Miss Collins, my friend, Miss Evans."

"Nice to meet you," Lily softly answered, feeling inappropriate and uncomfortable under the blonde's piercing gaze.

"Yes..._lovely._" Alexis barely replied, silently seething as James seemed more affectionate introducing _Miss Evans_, "May I inquire as to how long you have known _James_?"

Lily wondered why the elegant woman was intrigued to know such information, for it wasn't prudent or poised. Her nose was upturned in a snobbish gloat, and a competitive edge was present in her designer perfume. Alexis reminded Lily of a fair-haired version of Acantha, the school _bitch_.

"I've known Lily for over a month now." James interjected, his hand still draped across the door in order to keep Alexis outside, "She's done me the honour of joining me for brunch this morning."

"_Only a month_?" Alexis Collins chirped in wallowing laughter, a challenging look in her eye as she turned toward Lily and ignored James' last sentence, "Isn't it _funny_, James? How _a month_ seems like such a trivial amount of clockwork, compared to the length of time _we_ have known each other?"

"Quite right, Ms. Collins! _Thank_ _goodness_ time is not essential for the formation of a _wonderful_ friendship! Isn't that right, Lily?" James remarked proficiently, discreetly winking at Lily and making her smile.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Lily replied graciously, feeling a hint of satisfaction as Ms. Collins' face began turning an abnormal purple color.

"Well _I_ think—"

"I apologize for interrupting, Ms. Collins, but _Lily and I_ really must bid you _adieu_, for our delightful breakfast awaits, and I cannot have it grow cold!" James insisted pleasantly, dipping his head low and closing the manor door before Alexis could jab her foot in the door cranny, "Have a _lovely_ day!"

James pulled back the translucent curtains covering a window near the door and waited until Ms. Collins had tramped off the property. He heaved a sigh of relief and turning toward Lily, amused to see the redhead covering her mouth with her hands, trying desperately to muffle her hilarity.

"And what, may I ask, do you find _so_ entertaining?" James Potter asked effortlessly, a grin twitching on the margin of his lips at the sight of Lily convulsing in giggles.

"It's nothing, _I'm fine_!" she nearly sputtered, tears beginning to collect in pockets at the corners of her eyes.

"_Tell me_."

"Or you'll what?" Lily countered jokingly, a stubborn look crossing her face.

"I'll..._rip_ that new dress right off of _you_!" James announced proudly, quirking a naughty smile that made Lily instantly blush, further delighting James.

"_My_ Lord!"

"_My_ Lady?"

"You wouldn't _dare_!"

"I think it's a fair compromise." James began thoughtfully, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling innocuously, "If you won't satisfy my curiosity with an answer, I'll satisfy a _different_ curiosity I boast."

Lily's heart began beating furiously as discomfiture seized her. _Damn_ James Potter for being remarkably charming and appealing; he seemed to have a talent for making her redden.

"I think that hat Ms. Collins was wearing was _absurd_." Lily sputtered quickly, willing her flushed cheeks to retain their normal peach colouring, "I didn't want to insult your friend, but—"

"She's _not_ my friend," James insisted, inwardly reprimanding himself for getting too flirtatious with Lily. He didn't want to come off as a bad-mannered prat: "And I agree with you. That hat looked like it was purchased from a _taxidermist_."

Lily quirked a half-moon smile and bit down on the bottom of her red lips, feeling oddly relieved, yet curious as to why James wasn't fond of Ms. Collins.

"Enough about Ms. Collins. Would you like to join me for breakfast in the gardens?" James offered once an odd silence surfaced between them, "I'm interested to learn more about yo—I mean—your schooling." James corrected himself.

"_I'm famished_!" Lily begrudgingly whined, screwing up her pretty face into a perplexed, hungry expression, "I haven't eaten since yesterday morning."

"Then I'll have to stuff you with food." James remarked proudly, extending his right elbow toward Lily in an inclination to lead her, "Shall we?"

"Yes, we shall." Lily repeated pleasantly, taking James' arm, "But I fear I might pop a button off my new dress if you stuff me too much."

"One can only _hope_." James whispered impishly, chuckling as Lily swatted his arm and sighed.

* * *

Crossing the magnificent manor had taken longer than Lily had expected. Each furbished hallway seemed to lead to another, creating a twisted maze of hardwood and tile. Lily felt as if she was in a museum, for she was surrounded by paintings, suits of armour and serpentine sculpture.

A glass door with tiny butterflies and tropical birds etched on the surface at the back of the house lead out to the manicured gardens Lily had visited once before. Outside, marble fountains trickled water and wild rose bushes flowered, creating the perfect atmosphere. Taking in all the sights, Lily noticed two patio chairs and a table were strategically placed under an aching old willow tree…

"_Madam_," James bellowed in a deep, sultry voice, pulling a chair out from beneath the table and tucking Lily in, "What can I fetch you this morning?"

"Well." Lily drawled playfully, pretending to flip through a menu, "I believe I'll try one of everything."

James quirked a smile and pulled the lid off a silver tray situated on a tea trolley with wheels, "As you wish."

Lily swore she hadn't seen the trolley there before, but pushed the thought from her mind as she glimpsed sizzling bacon, bangers, smoked ham, scrambled eggs, beans and every bagel and baguette known to England on the tray James set upon the table.

"_Good Lord_." Lily murmured as James poured her a glass of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, "So _this_ is how the other half lives!"

James took a seat and folded a silk napkin over his lap, pleased with Lily's enthusiastic expression. It was turning out to be a perfect morning, for the sun was gently shining, the wind barely grazing exposed skin, and the most beautiful redhead James had _ever_ seen was in his presence.

"Yes, I suppose being a Lord does have its perks." James commented, smirking behind the rim of his coffee cup as Lily rolled her eyes.

"_That's_ a bit of an understatement." Lily pursued.

"Not really." James replied, his face taking on a more serious appearance, "It isn't all fun and games. One would imagine this great freedom, but being of noble birth comes with its shackles."

"You _must_ be joking!" Lily retorted loudly, dropping her fork and becoming more determined as well, "Compared to me, you've all the freedom in the world! I have to go to a bloody _snob_ school until I'm eighteen, and you're free to picnic on your estate or go and do whatever you want!"

"Don't presume to know what I _can_ and _cannot_ do." James snapped back, narrowing his eyes at Lily, "You may be _stuck_ in some hell hole now, but once you're eighteen you _will_ have freedom and make your own decisions. This I will never have." James scolded bitterly.

"What are you talking about?" Lily replied hotly, glaring back at James with the same fierceness, "You have the freedom to travel wherever you want, buy whatever you want, and you will never feel burdened due to lack of wealth."

"If there is one thing I have learned in my life thus far, it's that money doesn't bring happiness." James said firmly, his gaze locked with Lily, "I'll never be able to make any decisions until I've inherited the _entire_ Potter fortune. The little things you take for granted, like running out into the streets and doing something completely crazy and exciting, I could never do. I fear my actions will be published on the front of some _tabloid, _and to besmirch the Potter name would be to condemn myself to a lifetime of my mother's wrath."

Lily fell silent, watching as James crumbled his hands into fists and stared down at the table with a cold glower. She regretted bringing up the topic immediately.

"I'm...sorry for being so ignorant." Lily offered softly, feeling embarrassed and slightly ashamed, "I didn't mean—"

"You don't need to apologize, Lily." James looked up at her with a calculating stare and spoke in a handsome, masculine voice, "I don't usually launch into fiery tirades...it's rather odd, how I irrationally blurt out my emotions around you."

"I've been told I can be _quite_ infuriating." Lily giggled, quirking a smile at James, who returned it with his own smirk. She was glad their argument had dissipated so quickly.

"A toast." James announced, raising his crystal goblet of orange juice, "To Lily, the biggest pain in my arse!"

"I resent that!" Lily insisted mockingly, raising her glass, "Shall we rephrase? To me, the smallest pain in Lord Potter's _massive_ arse!"

"Been looking at my backside?" James looked pleased.

"Buck up and clink my glass, _Potter!_"

The pair downed their juice and began buttering their bread, both fairly pleased about their verbal sparring. James had never known a woman so headstrong and willing to oppose him.

* * *

With an ambiguous **pop**, Sirius Black appeared in a dark, mucky alley three blocks away from the expansive Potter mansion. Dressed casually in mahogany-coloured fleece and a pair of black trousers, Sirius exited the dodgy passage and set out down the street.

Yesterday's events had sufficiently boggled him. Sirius had followed James, who had been carrying a pretty girl, back to his mansion to get some answers. It was highly unlike James to risk his own life for a woman, and Sirius could not rationalize such actions. But, Sirius had gotten no answers; just a request to leave.

Sirius turned a corner and headed straight for the wrought iron gates embellished with the Potter coat of arms. He whipped out his yew, fairly pliable wand and muttered _Alohomora. _The gate swung open, a slight wheeze in the hinges, and Sirius headed toward the gardens; however, before he stepped out from behind a crab apple tree he rigidly halted, glimpsing James and the mysterious woman he'd saved eating breakfast and _laughing_.

James Potter _laughing_?

"Well, well, well." Sirius murmured softly, a coy grin spreading over his face as he slinked back into the shadows, "You haven't been telling me _everything_, have you, Prongs?"

* * *

"What subjects are you taking in school, Lily?" James inquired, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on the table, something he would _never_ dare do around his mother.

"Religion, Math, Geography, History...fairly boring things like that." Lily replied, screwing up her nose in repulsion, "What about you? What school did you go to?"

"I went to Hogwarts School of Witch—er...I mean, Hogwarts School _in_ Winchester." James stumbled, clearing his throat awkwardly, "I took similar subjects, as well as Piano, French, Latin... also _very_ boring."

"Hogwarts? I've never heard of it." Lily stated, looking mildly curious, "But then again, I suppose it's some _posh_ school for the _lordly_ type."

"Yes...I suppose the students admitted are somewhat… _different_." James replied, hiding a smile.

"Yes, _different_ is an appropriate word." Lily teased, grinning at James.

"Are you taunting me, Ms. Evans?" James asked in offense, a roguish smirk formulating on his mouth, "Because if you are, there _will_ be consequences."

"Really? _Well_, despite your warning, I must inform you that I _am_ taunting you, _Lord_ Potter." Lily politely informed him, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin as he grinned playfully.

"Mmm, I presumed you were." James said calmly, suavely getting out of his patio chair and depositing his cutlery atop his china plate, "Now, would you like to take a walk with me to the pond?"

"Pond?" Lily inquired, letting James help her out of her chair, "The one at the park down the street?"

"No, we shall save that walk for another time." James answered, watching Lily eyes grow wide with intrigue, "There's a little pond on the western side of the property I'd like to show you."

"Oh? I'd very much like to see it," Lily replied curtly, smiling, "but don't walk _too_ closely beside me."

"Why? Afraid I might misbehave?" James wickedly asked, winking.

Still crouching beneath the flowering crab-apple tree, Sirius Black watched the sparing pair get up from the patio table and head toward the duck pond, located on the opposite side of the Potter Estate. Clearing his mind of all thoughts, save one, Sirius hunched over, tiny hairs formulating on his arms and back, while a long snout and claws sprouted from his appendages...

Padfoot followed the duo to the serene pond where they stopped to admire the water lilies and tadpoles. Padfoot lifted his carnal nostrils upward and smelled, among other things, the scent of cucumber soap and crushed pine. Squatting behind an oleander bush, Padfoot continued to watch Lily and James, acutely interested in the events that began to unfold.

"My father usually keeps the pond stocked with trout." James said, kneeling on the water's bank and fishing out a smooth rock to chuck, "I used to enjoy coming out here with him."

"I've never fished before." Lily exclaimed, watching James skip rocks along the pond's surface.

"No, it's not likely you have." James affirmed, getting up and brushing his wet hands on his pants, "It's a male sport."

"Says _who_?" Lily interjected.

"I've never heard of or seen a woman fish before." James turned to Lily, flashing her a stubborn look, "It's not a sport women take interest in."

"Have you questioned _every_ woman to ever live?" Lily persisted, crossing her arms, "Perhaps women would partake in fishing if doing such wasn't considered socially inappropriate."

"Name me _one_ woman that would want to fish."

"_Me_."

"You can't be serious." James scoffed in a lordly tone, looking obstinate, "Women play cricket, or perhaps they horseback ride, but they do _not_ fish."

"Perhaps _aristocratic_ women don't, but in this age a woman can do _anything_ a man can." Lily stated, glaring at James, "And don't you dare argue."

"Woman _can't_ fish. It's a _bloody_ fact!" James retorted, returned her glower and pigheadedly refusing to listen, "And, now that we're on the topic, it's scientifically _proven _that woman don't have the muscle mass a man—"

"I'll show _you_ how strong a woman can be." Lily threatened, poking James' chest repeatedly, "Don't push me!"

"Oh? What are you going to do? Impale me with your _knitting_ hooks?"

Lily shrieked in indignation and pushed James hard, causing him to lose his balance and splash into the cold pond behind him.

Padfoot wagged his tail fiercely a few yards away. If he had been in a human state, he surely would've had to choke back laughter. The mere _thought_ of James Potter, most popular and sought after Lord in London, being thwarted by a woman was _astounding_. However, what most astounded Sirius was the way James handled the situation…

"_Ms. Evans_." James hissed, his head popping out from beneath the water as sopping wet hair impaired his vision.

"_What?"_ Lily demanded indignantly, her face devoid of a smile.

"You're going to pay for that."

Lily was shocked to see James' expression turn from annoyed to amused as he wadded toward the shore. He mischievously eyed Lily, ready to pounce on her delicate figure.

"Wait...what are you doing?" Lily squealed girlishly as she backed up into a tree.

"I have this _overpowering_ urge to hug you." James said matter-of-factly, grinning as water dripped from his outstretched arms.

"Don't you come near me! You'll get my dress wet!" Lily insisted meekly, trying to pull away from James' grasp.

"Don't forget, Ms. Evans, I bought you that dress. Therefore I am entitled to do whatever I please with it." James replied, scooping Lily up in his arms, who was writhing terribly.

"_Let me down!"_

"No."

"Lord Potter, let me down, _now_!"

"As you wish."

James dropped Lily into the lake, her yellow dress and manicured hair submerging in the water. When Lily surfaced, gasping for air, James couldn't help but think she looked just as beautiful when saturated with water.

"James!" Lily yelped, panting as she kicked toward the surface, her dress weighing her down substantially.

"Can I help you, Ms. Evans?" James inquired comically, kneeling near the shore and watching Lily swim toward him.

"Some gentleman you turned out to be!" Lily retorted, failing to keep an outraged smile from crossing her red lips.

"Ms. Evans, I am as much a _gentleman_ as you are a _lady_." James announced proudly, smiling with bits of black hair awkwardly sticking out atop his head.

"I suppose you're right...but I have a surprise for you, _my lord_." Lily cooed uncharacteristically, slithering closer to James.

James almost fell over, for Lily's face was _very_ close to his. He felt his heart palpitating very quickly as Lily's lips neared his...

"I love surprises." James responded in a deep, guttural voice.

"Close your eyes." Lily whispered, her hand wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer as she sat in the water.

James obliged, closing his eyes and sensing Lily's face very close to his...but instead of tasting her lips, James tasted lake water as he was promptly pulled back into the pond.

"Surprise!" Lily yelled in an animated fashion as James resurfaced.

"_Merlin_, you'll be the death of me!" James exclaimed, shaking his head and sending droplets of water everywhere, "That's the thanks I get for saving you from getting run over? Drowning me? Sorry, but I had something else in mind!"

_Merlin?_

"Let's just say I'm not the appreciative type." Lily chided, winking.

"Yes, I can tell! As repayment, I'm forcing you to help me locate my lost glasses…"

"Oh, no, you lost them? This pond isn't very deep…it must be along the bottom somewhere…" Lily logically assumed, brushing her hair out of her face, "We'll just have to dive down and find them."

"Ladies first." James insisted, smirking.

"I thought you said I wasn't a lady?"

"Changed my mind."

"_Fine_."

Lily dove down beneath the exterior of the water, taking a deep breath and running her hands along the sandy bottom of the pond. She felt James beside her scavenging the bottom, and ever so often their legs would entangle. Squinting, Lily saw James find his spectacles and resurface.

"Much better!" James said, fixing his glasses on his nose and smiling triumphantly at Lily.

"I _told_ you it wouldn't be so difficult, I—" Lily broke off, feeling something beneath her dress struggling between her breasts. Lily looked down and saw a scaled tail flapping wildly in her cleavage.

She screamed extremely loudly and began to unbutton the front of her dress, panicked.

"GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!" Lily wailed, flailing her arms and wriggling out of her dress. James' eyes grew wide at the sight of her undressing, but he soon understood the situation.

"I…I…O.K., hold still!" James announced in somewhat of a hoarse voice, his pants tightening as he plunged a steady hand between her breasts and pulling the fish out from beneath her dress.

Lily stopped screaming and slinked back into the water, vigorously trying to compose herself and button her dress back up. She was sufficiently embarrassed, what with James fondling a fish down her dress.

"I'm sorry about that…" James said genuinely, dropping the fish back into the water and turning toward her flushed face, "I hope you don't think—"

"No, no! I..._er_...suppose I'm grateful?" Lily meekly replied, a slight smile on her face.

"And here I thought you weren't the appreciative type."

As she rolled her eyes, an interesting thought occurred to James. He suddenly began, against his better judgment, to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Lily demanded cuttingly, her face flushing again.

"You've proved me wrong, that's all."

"What are you talking about?"

"I suppose women _can_ fish…"

* * *

Sirius Black transformed back into his human form, his mouth wide open. Lord James Potter was in a _pond_, with a beautiful civilian woman, who had coincidentally pushed him in.

"Lucky _bugger_." Sirius smiled, standing up from behind his bush and exiting the Potter property.

He'd seen enough, and soon would confront James with his findings.

* * *

Lily and James swam circles around one another, occasionally dunking each other's heads under the cool water. Lily's golden dress trailed behind her, like yellow streaks of sun, and her red hair clung to her rosy cheeks. James had peeled off his black T-shirt, deciding to traverse the water without it, and seemed content to reside in the lake for hours.

"I used to wake up early in the summer, even in early autumn, and swim in the middle of the lake at my boarding school." James said, breaking the silence, "It's one of my fondest memories."

Lily swam closer to James, treading water with her small feet. She paused for a moment, wondering if she had any good memories. She supposed whenever she and Roxanne were together, happy memories were created, and wondered whether her time with James would be a happy memory, too.

"If my school had a pond, I'm sure I'd do the same." Lily supposed, feeling James' hand close to her own, "I don't think I've swam since I was little…"

"Then you'll have to come visit again." James said, almost hesitant to say what he was thinking aloud, "I...don't want this to be the last time I see you…"

Lily felt a strange sensation in her chest, like the tinkling of music—piano keys softly playing and making her warm, yet cold. She fell silent, the thought of returning to school suddenly making her feel sick.

"Are you cold?" James asked gently, his eyes searching Lily's as he slowly wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her close, "You're shivering!"

"Maybe a little." Lily whispered, water rippling above her shoulders as she held onto James instead of treading.

The pond was still, only a slight wind touching upon its surface. James and Lily silently stared into one another's eyes, seeing something in the other's...an emotion they did not recognize. It looked almost like innocence…something naive and untouched that lurked beneath emerald green and brown.

"Let me take you back to the house. You'll be warm there." James offered weakly, helping Lily out of the pond and walking with her toward the mansion.

He didn't know what to think. She didn't know what to think.

He didn't want to grow attached to her. She didn't want to grow attached to him.

It would only lead to pain. It would only lead to pain.

And was she worth it? And was he worth it?

* * *

The sky had begun to darken, leaving James's room dancing in fiery shadows. Lily was curled up near his fireplace, her head propped up on her knees, which she was hugging. She thought the room smelled like a mixture of burning wood and musk, perhaps mingled with crushed pine—like him. She sighed, playing with the hem of her freshly pressed school uniform, and waited.

During this lonely hour, Lily had thought about what had occurred down at the pond. Despite her greatest effort, she had finally admitted to herself what she had fiercely been denying, and it scared her.

_She liked James_…she liked him a great deal, and she realized she couldn't let it progress any further. James was a Lord, handsome, strong, charming...and she was a poor street girl without a family, a good name, or any money. They could _never_ become more than friends, for they were a prince and a popper, of sorts. How such a man could ever feel for her, Lily could not fathom. The situation was hopeless, and she would be the one broken-hearted.

She wanted to leave as quickly as she could.

There was a small knock on the door. Lily looked up to see James, standing in the darkest corner, his eyes illuminated by the fire.

"She's here?"

"No, not yet."

James took a seat beside Lily, turning his gaze towards the fire. Once they had gotten to the house, Lily and James had gone their separate ways, drying off and preparing for supper. However, Mrs. O'Leary had reminded them that Sister Agatha would be stopping by the house before dinner to pick Lily up and bring her back to school, leaving James and Lily downtrodden.

"You know, I could convince her that you're still sick." James faintly said, staring hard into the burning embers, "You could stay longer…"

"I can't impose on your hospitality anymore." Lily replied, her hard gaze not faltering.

"Don't be absurd, you're not—"

"James, I need to go home." Lily said curtly, blinking back stinging tears. She could not let him see that she cared…see how she really felt about leaving.

"That place isn't your home." James whispered, turning his gaze toward Lily and flinching. She looked hard and cold…not at all the woman she was before, the woman he _knew_.

"It's where I belong, and I must return."

"Lily, please—"

"James." Lily began firmly, turning to look at him with a passive expression, "I'm sorry, but I don't want to stay here with you. I had a good time, but I want to leave, and…" Lily heard her voice grow coarse, "I must go."

James was taken aback, for in her eyes he saw emerald ice, callous and cruel. He felt so foolish for letting her in, letting himself care for a woman of inferior birth...a women he had only just met. His chest began to throb, as if he had just been stabbed.

"I understand, I—" James breathed, his hands becoming fists and his teeth clenching. He was suddenly furious, for she had made a fool of him…yet he didn't want her to go, "Just get out."

Lily got up from the carpet she sat on, backing away from James. His voice sounded emotionless and harsh, as if he were on the brink of hitting her across the face. His eyes never seemed to leave the fire, but they burned with the same intensity.

Lily walked toward the door, broken, about to turn the handle…

"And Ms. Evans?"

The way he said her name was extremely formal and cutting.

"Yes?" Lily inquired, her voice cracking but her facade remaining.

"Don't ever step foot in this house again."

Lily exited the room and ran down the hallway, tears beginning to pour down her face. She wasn't going to wait for Sister Agatha to fetch her; she was going back to school on her own.

Prying open the front door, Lily escaped onto the streets, running blindly past the same lampposts she had passed on the night of her escape from St. Madeline's.

James watched her from his bedroom window. Though it was dark, he could see her tears, her tangled expression. He wanted to run after her, console her, protect her…

He then realized she had lied to him.

* * *

Author's Notes

Please continue to read & review! :)

-pratty prongs princess


	5. Chapter 5

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 5- Because You Are Loved

_London 1940- April _

Lily Evans lay on the dusty floor under her bed, opening and closing a used matchbox she had hidden beneath the mattress. Whenever she found herself deep in thought, her hands would fidget uncontrollably, making nearby objects click or squeak to shatter enveloping silence.

It was late afternoon, a little after twelve, and the weather was _exceptionally_ dreary. Morning classes had adjourned early, for Mrs. Potter was holding another etiquette seminar for the St. Madeline's girls.

Lily watched students filter out of the school in bright yellow and red rain jackets, holding patterned umbrellas and avoiding puddles of water. Sister Agatha led the procession of girls, looking like a swollen muffin; the kind baked with too much yeast.

Lily had been forbidden from stepping foot near the Potter mansion by Sister Agatha. She insisted Lily would always remain _uncouth, _andtherefore no amount of etiquette would curb her _wicked_ nature. Truth be told, Sister Agatha didn't want to give Lily another opportunity to have an extended stay at the Potter mansion.

However, Lily didn't particularly mind; she had absolutely _no_ desire to go anywhere near Lord James Potter.

It would be an understatement to say Lily was rattled from her last visit with the handsome lord. She could vividly recall the indifference in his debonair tone as he coolly demanded she leave, as well as his impossible stone glare. The memory of his face, earlier wrinkled with laughter and insatiable curiosity, suddenly contorting into a mask of represent fury still sent chills down Lily's spine.

Now she was determined to put her mind off of him. She recited the same line to herself over and over again, hoping the words would penetrate her thick skull.

However, it wasn't her mind that needed convincing:

_Don't be stupid and get your hopes up. You are a poor orphan without a dime to your name, a name that isn't even distinguished. He's a rich, attractive Lord with more prestige and prospects than most could dream up. What could you possibly have that he'd want? You're a conquest; a plaything to amuse him between the innumerable girlfriends he probably has._

_Hmm…maybe he isn't just using me, though..._

_NO! Of course he is. He is using me. End of story. Only possible conclusion…I think…_

It was Lily's heart that needed convincing.

* * *

"You're an asshole, _did you know_?" James Potter shouted boisterously, pressed against his bedroom entrance and fiercely keeping the man on the other side from entering.

"If you don't _bloody_ open up, I'll blow a hole in the door!" Sirius Black yelled back, throwing his weight against the wooden enclosure and swearing loudly as he bruised his shoulder.

"What don't you understand about the phrase _piss off_, Sirius?" James demanded, angrily giving up and ripping the door open.

"_Je ne parle pas l'anglais_!" Sirius smirked devilishly, arrogantly pushing his way into James' room.

"Your French sucks."

"Your _girlfriend_ sucks, literally!"

"Your _mother_ sucks, literally!"

"That's quite disgusting imagery. Your _face_ sucks,"

"O, that's mature!"

"I've never been the mature sort." Sirius announced, flopping onto James' bed and laying motionless, face first into a pillow.

"What's _this_ about?" James snapped, his hair rumpled and eyes narrowed at his annoying, so-called _friend_.

"It's about time you told me about this mystery woman you're mooning over." Sirius fired back, looking over his shoulder at James, "It's obvious you're in an irritable mood because of her. Did she refuse to bed with you?"

"_No_—I—_mystery woman?_ I've no idea what you're on about, but I—"

"James, I _saw_ you with her by the pond."

"You've been _spying_ on me?" James spat in a furious tone, folding his muscled arms and glaring daggers at Sirius, "_T__ell me what you saw_."

"I spied on you and that _sexy_ little number you saved the other day splashing around in the pond like a bunch of school _sweethearts_! _Ha_! Even queerer was that you seemed to be _enjoying_ yourself!" Sirius spat mockingly, grinning like a maddened Cheshire cat, "You were actually _smiling!_ You can imagine my surprise, I'm sure."

James groaned and collapsed into a high-back chair by the hearth, gathering his face in his hands. He had desperately tried to get Lily off his mind, and Sirius was only worsening his feeble attempts. Despite telling himself over and over that she didn't want to be with him, James had reserved a morsel of hope she was lying. He'd seen the emotion in her eyes; he knew her words betrayed her feelings.

At least, he _thought_ he knew.

"What'd you want to know?" James grumbled into his pillow, relenting to his pesky friend.

"Name, intentions, breast size…although I guessed a _C_—"

"Her name is Lily Evans. I've no idea what her intentions are, or if she even _has_ any, and mention anything about her breasts again and I'll _petrify_ you."

"You're no fun," Sirius mumbled, sitting up properly and frowning moodily, "You like this Lily, don't you?"

"No." James said firmly.

"_Liar_."

"I don't!"

"_Bollocks!"_

"Fine," James mumbled, acting more like an embarrassed schoolboy than a Lord, "_perhaps_ I do have somefeelings for her—"

"I _knew_ it!"

"You're an idiot."

It was seldom that anyone ever glimpsed James acting anything but proper and lordly. He was the type of man that retained an aristocratic façade; a mask that hid his true feelings and betrayed a passive, indifferent air. Ever since he was five, James' mother had told him how to act, how to dress, how to hide his faults and feelings...

Sirius knew the _real_ James: a man, a prankster, a best friend. Not the unfeeling lord his mother had molded to inherit the Potter fortune.

Though he himself had never found a woman that could hold his attention for more than an evening, Sirius could see why James was fond of Lily.

Lily was normal girl, lacking a staunch aristocratic upbringing and therefore the proper _robotic_ behavior. Sirius guessed she was just a naïve _muggle-bumpkin_, her spirit raw and unpolished, with no comprehension of the world she lived in. She hadn't a clue how important Lord James really was, or the wealth behind his name, which Sirius imagined was one of the reasons James found her so appealing. She was simply _enviable_, untouched by the warring world and free of obligation.

This was why James was fond of her. He wasn't a Lord shackled by duty around her; he was free to be a _man_.

"_I'm_ the idiot? As I recall, _you're_ the bloke who's got himself _infatuated_ with a muggle schoolgirl! Have I taught you _nothing_?" Sirius demanded, sighing and rolling his eyes.

"All you've taught me is women ought not be heard, just _fucked_." James retorted, furrowing his brow and glaring at Sirius, "_Excuse me_ for enjoying the company of one with intelligence and spirit!"

"How _you_ can imagine a workable partnership arising from this impossible situation is _beyond_ me." Sirius replied in a patronizing tone, "Not onlyis she excluded from the aristocracy, she's a _bloody _muggle!"

"I'm aware of it," James snapped sharply, refusing to listen to Sirius, "and frankly I don't give a damn."

"I thought as much... where is she now?" Sirius badgered, watching James defensively go rigid.

"Why do you want to know?" James demanded, stubbornly crossing his arms, "It's no concern of yours."

"You obviously have your coattails in a knot because you haven't bedded her yet. Being a little schoolgirl, I imagine she's a prude. Tell me James, how exactly will you seduce her sitting here _moping_ in your room?" Sirius persisted seriously, speaking to James as if he were a child procrastinating from doing his homework.

"_For your information_, it is _not_ my objective to have sex with her, you _prat_!" James angrily countered, gnashing his teeth, "I enjoy being around her...and... _er_..."

"O, _please_." Sirius sighed unbelievingly, "You don't want to?"

"_Of_ _course_ I want—" James accidentally confessed, frowning as Sirius' toothy grin spread toward his ears, "_go to hell_."

"Haven't you arranged another meeting with her?"

"_No_."

"Why not?"

"She—I...don'twanttoeverseeheragain." James slurred, deciding to preserve his pride and make it seem like he broke off the friendship.

"You are a _pathetic_ liar. Why doesn't she ever want to see you again?" Sirius calmly asked, watching James mutter smutty curses under his breath; James scornfully eyed Sirius and resented the fact he knew him so well.

"I don't know! She's a _ruddy _woman! They're intolerable and…_incomprehensible_!" James spat childishly, frowning; "I don't even know what I've done wrong! I've never had to worry about my actions offending a woman before…"

"That's the luxury of being a Lord, my friend. Women will do anything to please you and turn a blind eye." Sirius whispered, the gears in his calculating mind moving erratically, "But this Lily is different. We'll just have to see…"

"_See_ what_?_"

"Nothing. I'm off." Sirius abruptly said, ignoring James' questioning look as he crossed his lavishly decorated room, "Expect me later today. I'll be popping by again, perhaps with a gift."

"_Gift_? Where are you going?" James inquired confusedly, scrunching up his nose in bafflement as Sirius swept by him without another word.

Percival, one of the Potters' house elves, appeared in the doorway once Sirius was gone, his bulbous eyes bulging with inquiry, "Mr. Potter, sir? Would sir like Percival to fetch him something for lunch?"

"Something is wrong with Sirius," James mentioned more to himself than the elf, whose question he ignored; he scratched the bottom of his chin in confusion, "There's always something amiss when he visits and doesn't raid the kitchen..."

* * *

Sirius thumped down the main staircase into the entrance hall of the Potter mansion, than brusquely stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius glimpsed a group of girls dressed in uniform and sitting in the dining hall, politely playing with forks and spoons. There, among the buffet of girls dressed in navy blue, was the same sassy brunette he had traded words with the day Lily had almost been run over. Her back was poker straight, a napkin lay in her lap, and she looked utterly jaded with the etiquette festivities taking place.

"_Perfect_." Sirius hissed happily, watching her through the slim opening between the double doors to the dining hall.

Sirius waited impatiently for fifteen minutes, hidden behind the doors, until the brunette excused herself from the table and headed toward the toilets. As soon as she exited the hall, Sirius agilely pounced.

"Enjoying your class?" he asked sarcastically, leaning against a banister attached to the stairs, looking _very_ suave.

Roxanne startlingly turned toward Sirius, surprised by his charming voice. Before she spoke she observed Sirius, recognizing him from a few weeks back. She repressed her instinctive frown.

"Yes, they are quite enjoyable." Roxanne replied apathetically, deciding the man might be related to Mrs. Potter and be offended by the truth.

"Not a very good liar, are you?" Sirius smirked, his eyes sweeping her figure from forehead to toes. He wasn't concerned about appearing chauvinistic.

"Whatever you say, _sir_." Roxanne replied in a sickly sweet voice, perturbed by his bigoted attentiveness, "Now, if you will excuse me—"

"Where can I find Lily Evans?" Sirius continued uncaringly before Roxanne was able to turn her back on him.

Roxanne was momentarily speechless, stunned that such a man would know Lily.

"Why should a _gentleman_ such as yourself care about her whereabouts?" Roxanne asked in a shrewd tone, her polite mask beginning to crack; she was very protective of her friend, and she did _not _like this man, his tone, or the way he looked at her.

"That is none of _your_ business." Sirius replied tersely, though he secretly enjoyed her sudden feistiness, "Is she in the dinning hall with you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Excellent." Sirius chirped merrily, digging his hands in his pockets and heading toward the front door of the mansion, "Thanks for your help, wench."

"_Wha_—where are you going?" Roxanne exclaimed, wondering why he wasn't investigating the dining hall as she had hoped he would.

"I'm off to St. Madeline's School for Girls," Sirius said, winking mischievously, "Lily Evans and I have some matters that need to be discussed."

Roxanne watched Sirius Black exit the gargantuan manor and snap the door shut behind him. He was a smart fellow, she'd give him that, but Roxanne feared the reason Sirius was searching for her best friend. What could he possibly want with her? And how did he know her in the first place?

"Good luck, Lily," Roxanne whispered worriedly, heading back into the dining hall.

* * *

_twenty thumbs_

_and twenty toes_

_submersed in deep turquoise_

_wax lips_

_ashen and withered_

_posing for the portrait_

Lily put down her blunt pencil and shoved the unfinished poem she wrote on a piece of deteriorating paper under her pillow. She'd been writing quite a bit lately, having nothing else to do cooped up in the attic. Counting the floorboards was getting _quite_ old, after all.

Lily lay in her bed for awhile, watching rain drops trail down her dirty window. In the distance she could see a small boy with a funny looking instrument, a cross between a broom and pipe, cleaning a chimney.

He was very sooty and black with ash, and Lily wondered if perhaps she would have to become a chimneysweeper one day. She hadn't any money or relatives, and couldn't think of any skills that would help her garner a job.

She'd seen girls her age, ragged and impoverished, selling arrays of flowers on the streets, but rarely did anyone purchase any. Perhaps she would have to sell flowers on the street to get by, instead.

It was thrilling to think she would be emancipated from school soon, acquiring a freedom she had never tasted, but the thought also scared her. She had nothing and nobody to escape to...

One of Lily's dreams was to become an established author or poet once she was freed from St. Madeline's, but such a dream was ridiculous. She hadn't the money to publish anything, and such jobs were seen as useless during such a time.

Wars weren't fought by writers or poets. At least, that's what everyone _thought_.

Last night, during dinner, Lily had heard Sister Agatha speaking with the other nuns about the war. Denmark and Norway had been invaded by the Germans, which would prove a fatal blow to Britain and the Allies. The coastline was key to Germany, for they now had suitable grounds to establish their navy. They had control of the airs, as well.

Lily knew what they were doing. Germany was strengthening their navy and the Luftwaffe in preparation for an attack on _Britain_.

The girls of St. Madeline's school had been sheltered from the war ever since it begun. Sister Agatha believed it wasn't prudent for women to be involved or concerned with war; therefore the students were completely ignorant.

But, of course, Lily knew quite a bit.

Lily got up off her bed and quietly opened the attic door, cringing frightfully when it creaked. Behind the door, asleep in a chair by the landing, was Sister Cordillia, her bulbous, layered chin vibrating every time she snored.

Sister Agatha had assigned Sister Cordillia to keep an eye on Lily while the rest of the staff and students were away at the Potter mansion. Cordillia was a _very _old nun that no longer had the capacity to teach, due to her nagging narcolepsy. What with Cordillia's uncontrollable compulsion to sleep, Lily could always escape the attic and roam freely about the school.

Lily inaudibly tiptoed by the drowsy woman and down the furbished hallways. She decided to go somewhere she'd only dared to go once before; Sister Agatha's office.

Hearing about the war had peeked Lily's interest, and she intended on raiding the nun's headquarters in search of newspaper clippings. Lily wasn't going to be ignorant concerning world issues, and if she were to find a job after school, she _needed_ attributing information.

Besides, it would be fun to look through Sister _Hagatha's_ things.

Lily climbed down the stairs into the main entrance area, inspecting the hallway leading to the nun's office between the spindles of the stairs. Nobody was around except the school chef, who was no doubt shuffling around in the kitchen.

"_Perfect_."

Lily crept down the hallway and promptly stopped before a pair of double doors encrusted with the school emblem. Lily grasped the glass handle and opened one of the doors, surprised to find it unlocked.

Lily had been in Sister Agatha's office many times, the last being when her hands got strapped by _the slipper_. Like usual, the drapes were firmly pulled over the windows and every surface was spotless. On the left wall was a large bookcase housing multiple titles, one picture of Sister Agatha when she was first appointed Head Mistress, and a framed certificate of excellence. Lily was tempted to rip _Hagatha's_ diploma up into little pieces.

"Where to start..." Lily wondered aloud, going behind Sister Agatha's desk and opening drawers at random.

There weren't any newspaper articles in the nun's desk; just stacks of files neatly placed in alphabetical order and a leather-bound Bible. Lily continued inspecting the office, careful not to disrupt any of its contents, and heaved a disappointed sigh when no news about the war surfaced.

Giving up, Lily went back behind Sister Agatha's desk to close the mahogany drawers, but not before glimpsing a file clearly labeled "Lily Evans" among the others. Intrigued, Lily plucked her file from the drawer, immediately noticing how _thick_ it was.

"_Naughty_ girl," a tall, shadowed man said from across the room.

Lily dropped the file she was clasping, papers carpeting the floor as she looked up in sheer terror. There, leaning against the doorframe, was an attractive man, maybe twenty, with brown hair and teasing eyes. He stared at Lily with an amused smile, his arms crossed.

"I-I-I," Lily stuttered, her porcelain features looking panic-stricken as she stood cemented to her spot behind the desk.

"Undermining authority, are we? I believe I'm already starting to like you, _dear_ Lily." Sirius whispered in a deep, sultry voice, "What _are_ you up to?"

"Do I know you?" Lily demanded politely, regaining some of her composure as her brain attempted to comprehend the situation, "You act as if you are familiar with me... have we met?"

"I'm sure you'd remember me if we had," Sirius chuckled arrogantly, nearing Lily as she meekly backed into a corner, "and yes, we have met, but you were subsequently unconscious at the time."

Lily was perplexed with the handsome man, to be utterly honest. She hadn't the faintest idea who the stranger was, but felt skittish around him, like a mouse around a cat. His eyes never left her and observed her every move, as if predicting what she was going to do next.

"Lord Sirius Black, infamous ladies' man and tabloid favorite." Sirius deliberated in a debonair voice, making a short, royal bow, "A pleasure to formally meet you, Ms. Evans."

"Yes, well, that's up for debate." Lily spoke in disquiet, retaining an unyielding expression due to her mistrust of the man.

Lily intrigued Sirius, for she didn't immediately bat her eyelashes or loop hair around her fingers like all the other nervous, love-stricken girls in his presence. He found her in the midst of _stealing_ from a higher authority, and she was _quite_ rude.

If she had been male, Sirius would have surely invited her to become a Marauder, for she had all the appropriate characteristics.

"_Hmm_...James did warn me of your—shall we call it—_sass_, Ms. Evans," Sirius replied to Lily's backhanded comment, "but I am not one to hold grudges. Why don't we get down to business?"

"Business?"

"Yes, and I'm not referring to _sex_, but if you're up for it, I won't protest." Sirius coed, winking promiscuously and sliding an arm around Lily's waist; she stiffened.

"And you insinuate _I'm_ rude? Tell me why you're here, and keep your _pecker_ in your pants while you're at it." Lily obdurately stipulated, her emerald eyes blazing as she pushed Sirius away.

"You're loss," Sirius announced flippantly, making himself comfortable in Sister Agatha's chair and putting his feet up on the desk, "I am here on behalf of Lord James, the man you've seemed to bewitch with your _charm_."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Lily mumbled, her heart palpitating quickly at the mention of James, "I think it's best that you _leave_."

"Not without you." Sirius said simply, leaning back and propping his feet up on Agatha's desk, "James would like to... _convene_ with you at his manor. Will you oblige?"

"Tempting offer, I'll pass." Lily hastily remarked, heading for the door.

"He's not taking no for an answer," Sirius replied shortly, getting out of his seat and stealthily maneuvering toward the door, blocking Lily's escape.

"Is it James that's not taking no for an answer, or _you_?" Lily pronounced, looking irritated and flustered, "Get out of my way."

"I don't think so,"

"_Move_."

"_No_."

"What do I have to do to make you _go away_?" Lily inquired furiously.

"What do I have to do to make you _come with me_?"

"_I won't!"_

"Then I _suppose_ I'll have to drag you to James' house, if you won't cooperate." Sirius said matter-o-factly, crossing his muscled arms across his chest in a predatory fashion.

"_I'd like to see you try._" Lily spat, readying herself for escape.

Almost immediately, Sirius grabbed hold of Lily's wrist, preparing to sling her over his shoulder. Lily lifted her hand, about to slap Sirius across the cheek, but Sirius caught her other hand in his and restrained her. Lily struggled against Sirius, trying to escape from his grasp, but his strength was too overpowering.

Lily hurriedly stepped on Sirius' left foot with her spiked heel, causing him to release her and howl in pain. Lily ran for the door, but Sirius quickly got over his initial pain and pounded down the hallway after her.

Lily turned down a sharp corner in the corridor, her breathing heavy as Sirius ran closely behind. Lily threw any object, like lamps or vases, found down the hallways she traversed behind her, making Sirius dodge objects as he pursued her. As she neared the kitchen, Lily felt Sirius catch up to her and grab a handful of her pleated skirt, making her trip and crash to the floor, Sirius atop her.

"_Get off of me!" _Lily shrieked wildly, her face pressed towards the floor as Sirius wrestled to control her arms and legs, "You _bastard_, you, you—!"

"Terribly sorry about this, _darling_, but it must be done!" Sirius announced bitterly, muttering a quick spell under his breath that summoned ropes to tie Lily's wrists and ankles together; something she was ignorant of.

Sirius took the piece of Lily's skirt he had ripped off of her and fashioned it around her mouth, prevented her from screaming or talking. Lily looked absolutely outraged, thrashing about on the floor until Sirius located her over his left shoulder. The wool cloth muffled Lily's mangled shrieks, as well as her incessant swearing.

"Settle down, we'll get those ropes off you as soon as we get to the mansion." Sirius promised somewhat sympathetically, heading for the front door of the school, "You gave me no choice, I _had_ to get you to come with me."

Lily couldn't comprehend Sirius' relationship to James, or the reason she was being kidnapped and brought to him. However, she did know one thing for sure.

She was going to see James again_. No, no no!_

Sirius limped out of the building, his foot throbbing and a bound woman draped over his shoulder. Lucky for him, no one noticed and Sister Cordillia remained asleep upstairs.

* * *

James sat slumped in the high-back chair in his room, his nose buried in a Quidditch book. He watched players fly from page to page, occasionally throwing bludgers at other players or performing loops over the pitch.

_Woollongong Shimmy  
Perfected by the Australian Woollongong Warriors, this is a high-speed zigzagging movement intended to throw off opposing Chasers..._

James had read and re-read the same paragraph multiple times for the past hour, his attention wavering for a moment then returning to the same phrase, which wasn't permeating his thick skull. His thoughts kept drifting to Lily and what had transpired between them only two weeks ago.

Besides Lily, James was also stressed about his _dear_ mother returning from Cairo. She had been home only a day and was already getting on James' nerves. It seemed _Ms. Collins _had indeed been invited to tea by James' mother, who thought she'd be a "smart match" for any wealthy bachelor, like him. James had gotten into a fight with his mother concerning the issue of Ms. Collins as soon as she'd apparated back to England, a spat that had left them both _furious_.

"M-m-master!" another timid house elf stammered, tiptoeing into James' room via a secret passage located behind the fireplace.

"Don't bother me." James grumbled, in no mood to be served or called upon by his mother, "Tend to me after dinner, not now."

"But sir! Mr. Black is coming down the hall and he's got a _wo_—" the house elf tried to say, hitting himself over the head with a fire poker mid-sentence for disobeying James, "he's—"

"I said _don't bother me_." James sighed again, waving the house elf away, "Go, _now_."

"_But sir—!_"

"_Go!_"

A few seconds after the house elf apparated out of the room, James heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway towards his room. Repulsed at the prospect of being disturbed from sulking again, James walked toward his door...

_**BAM!**_

The door was kicked open by Sirius Black, who had his hands supporting something swathed across his back. His hair was ruffled, giving him the look of a man just involved in a drunken bar fight, but his expression was that of utmost satisfaction.

"_Sirius_?" James faltered, dumbly watching the handsome Marauder walk past him and towards his bed, "what the hell—?"

"_Merry Christmas_! Santa has brought you a present, even though you're already so spoilt!" Sirius jeered laughably, looking more than pleased with himself.

It was then that James glimpsed a schoolgirl slung over Sirius' back with wavy red hair, a ripped skirt, and bound with yards of rope. Lily Evans was fiercely pounding Sirius' back, making every inclination that she wanted to be released.

"_Lily?" _James hoarsely exclaimed, his eyes wide at the sight of her tied up and squirming on his bed, "_What the __fuck__ are you doing, Sirius_!"

"Let's call it a _lover_'s reunion!" Sirius exclaimed cheerfully, depositing Lily on James' bed and heading for the door, "You better untie her quickly; we wouldn't want those pretty wrists to chafe."

Before James could cross the room to beat the living day lights out of Sirius, the brash brunette exited the room, closing the door behind him. James remained frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do, than speedily came to Lily's aid and removed the piece of cloth restricting her from talking.

"_James Potter, I don't know what the hell you think you're doing_!" Lily screamed as soon as her lips parted, glaring murderously at James, who looked stunned and confused, "_I demand to know why you've hired that __idiot__ to kidnap me!_"

"I didn't hire _anybody_ to lay a hand on you!" James immediately protested, finishing with the rope around Lily's hands, "I'm as taken aback as you are, I swear!"

"_Oh, really_? He told me he was "taking care of business" on behalf of _you_!" Lily cried, slapping James repeatedly in the chest after she had been freed.

"Would you quit assaulting me, _woman_?" James yelped crossly, backing away from an enraged Lily, "I don't know what Sirius is up to!"

"He chased me around the school and wrestled me to the _floor_!" Lily shrieked, her eyes burning passionately, "He's your _bloody_ friend!"

"He _what_?" James' jaw dropped as he imagined his best friend _manhandling_ Lily; his fury with the man doubled, "I swear I had no idea what he was up to. I would never ask him to force you to do something against your will, never mind _touch_ you. You must believe me."

Lily pursed her lips defiantly while James heaved a frustrated sigh, staring at her in pleadingly. He noticed her clothing was rumpled and ripped—not to mention _revealing_—and boldly contrasted with his pressed navy blue polo and black pants. Seeing her in such a state made his determination falter. He couldn't bring himself to be cold or strong, not against Lily. It startled him to realize that _she_ was his weakness. _She looks so beautiful…_

They stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity, breathing heavily without the formation of words. Lily's anger gradually started to melt away, leaving her suddenly dwelling on what had gone on between the two of them only weeks ago.

"Has... anyone ever told you that… you look really pretty when you're angry?" James couldn't stop himself from commenting, an adorable grin infectiously spreading over his stubbled chin.

"You're crazy," Lily mumbled, looking away with a slight blush as she fiddled with the hem of her kilt.

"Among other things, yes." James replied encouragingly, trying to figure out what to say to Lily to get her too look at him, "...how have you been?"

"Fine, I guess," Lily answered in a small voice, averting her eyes from James as she started heading for the door, "but, umm...I should go, so... if you'll excuse me—"

Lily couldn't look at James, and most certainly couldn't stay in his presence any longer. James Potter was far too attractive, charming, and utterly irresistible to deny, and Lily feared being around him would only worsen her situation.

"Lily, don't go." James blurted out, torn between pushing her away or embracing her.

Lily stopped and turned, fighting the urge to bite her lip as she scrutinized James' face.

"Why would I stay?" Lily whispered directly, looking confused, "Don't you remember? The last time we spoke you told me to _never come back_."

"_James, I need to go home," Lily said curtly, blinking back stinging tears. She could not let James see that she cared, see what she really felt._

"_That isn't your home," James whispered, turning his gaze toward Lily and flinching. She looked hard and cold, not at all the woman she was before, the woman he knew._

"_It's where I belong, and I must return," _

"_Lily, please-,"_

"_James," Lily began firmly, turning to look at him with a passive expression, "I'm sorry, but I don't want to stay here with you. I had a good time, but I want to leave, and," Lily felt her voice grow coarse, "I must go."_

_James was taken aback, for in her eyes he saw emerald ice, callous and cruel. He felt so foolish for letting her in, letting himself care for a woman of inferior birth. His chest began to hurt, as if just being stabbed. _

_He hated Lily Evans for breaking him, making him appear weaker._

"_I understand, I-," James breathed, his hands becoming fists and his teeth clenching. He was so angry; he didn't want her to go._

"_Please get out."_

_Lily got up from the carpet she sat on, backing away from James. His voice sounded emotionless and harsh, as if he were on the brink of hitting her across the face. His eyes never left the fire, but burned with the same intensity._

_Lily walked toward the door, about to open the handle._

"_And, Ms. Evans?"_

_The way he said her name was extremely formal and cutting._

"_Yes?" Lily inquired, her voice cracking but her facade remaining._

"_Don't ever step foot in this house, again,"_

"I was angry. I didn't mean what I said." James said, his voice pleading as he regarded the reluctant redhead, who was gradually becoming more upset.

"Why? Why were you angry with me? You had no reason..." Lily questioned, looking close to tears, what with all the different feelings she was experiencing at once.

James saw her resolve breaking, the anger seeping out of her voice and replacing with confusion and upset. He knew he was right, that she had lied the night of her departure. He felt a subtle flutter inside his chest.

"To understand my anger, you need to understand me." James whispered gently, discreetly reaching out towards Lily and taking her fragile hand in his, "Won't you come with me?"

"Where? I don't know…" Lily inquired meekly, her eyes betraying her teary confusion and indecisiveness.

"Please, Lily. I'm asking you to trust me." James responded softly, lightly caressing the palm of Lily's hand with his fingers, "_Trust me_."

She couldn't resist following him, for her anger over being forced back to the mansion was gone, and she was grudgingly almost glad to be back.

Not to mention James looked sexy.

Lily mutely obliged, her voice getting caught in the back of her throat as the exceedingly masculine Lord led her out of his room and down a foreign corridor splotched with rusting armor and pottery. James brought Lily into a room near the end of the hallway, filled to the brim with boxes.

"You brought me to a storage room?" Lily asked in bewilderment, conscious of how tightly James was holding onto her hand.

"Patience, m'dear," James said reassuringly, reading the label on every box.

Eventually the two broke apart, James finding a box marked "school" and dumping the contents all over the floor. Being very careful to choose a still life photo, untouched by magic, James picked up a picture of a woman in a pink dress, her smile spanning from ear to ear.

"Who's this?" Lily asked, taking hold of the framed photo and peering at the woman curiously.

"Her name is Laura." James replied, his eyes clouding over and his voice sounding distant, "She was one of my old girlfriends from school."

"Oh..." Lily whispered, unsure why James was showing her a picture of his gorgeous ex-girlfriend, "She is... very beautiful."

"Yes, I used to think so." James replied, his voice even, "The reason I'm showing you a picture of her is because she is one of the reasons I have problems trusting people. You see, ever since I started boarding school, my mother has been trying to arrange a partnership between me and a wealthy woman with a notable family, whom I would marry once I graduated school—"

"An arranged marriage?" Lily remarked, looking positively sickened as she and James took a seat on the dusty floor, their backs supported by the mounds of boxes.

"That's how aristocratic marriages are established." James affirmed, his eyes drifting between the photo and Lily, "I thought I'd never find love, what with my mother forcing me to date certain women, but one day I'd had enough of her meddling, so I made the decision to date whomever I wanted. That's when I met Laura."

Lily was surprised James was telling her such personal information, especially concerning his love life, but from the slight emotion in his voice and the torment in his eyes, Lily began to understand.

"Laura wasn't of noble birth, and she didn't even go to my school, but she'd taken an interest in me, and I thought I'd give it a go. She was just a normal girl...fun to be around, polite, and not clingy like all the other girlfriends I'd had. Naturally, I began to trust her, telling her things I wouldn't profess to just anyone, and she would tell me things in return. I was happy being with her because I thought she loved me for who I was, not due to my money or nobility. But I was wrong."

"What did she do to you?" Lily whispered, watching James' bitter eyes meet hers instead of focusing on the floor. Lily tenderly cupped her hand under James' chin, using her thumb to caress the skin under his jaw line.

James was taken aback by Lily's gentleness, but didn't let his surprise show as he cupped his hand over Lily's, making her hand slide down along his neck and linger their a little longer.

"One day, after we'd had a conversation about the possibility of a future together, Laura asked me how much money we'd inherit from my family. Being only sixteen, I told her I would inherit nothing until I was twenty-one, and, even then, might not receive anything because I was defying my mother by marrying her. I was surprised when she broke up with me the next day."

Lily looked horrified.

"How could she?" Lily murmured angrily, her emerald jewels blazing, "I don't understand...?"

"Turns out Laura and her parents were quite a bit poorer than she told me, and were to be extradited out of the country. She needed me and my money to support her parents, and my marriage to her would ensure she'd stay in England," James said, clearing his throat, trying to regain some composure, "She later sold some of my secrets to the tabloids for money."

"How could she do such a terrible thing?" Lily exclaimed acrimoniously, observing him staring coldly at the picture of Laura, "I'm sorry…"

"I didn't tell you this story because I wanted sympathy, Lily." James softly spoke, his gaze unwavering as he stared into her eyes, "I don't care about her anymore, I was much younger and naïve. I just want to explain; _this_ is why I became so angry with you. I blindly trusted you from the moment I met you, just as I had with Laura, and when you wanted to leave...I regretted letting you get to me."

"Do you still regret it?" Lily whispered, looking concerned and innocent, her red curls falling over her porcelain cheeks.

"No, you're different from Laura. I was just too worked up and idiotic to see it then." James replied, cracking a small smile and carefully placing his hand on her bare knee.

Lily shivered under his touch, feeling naked and self-conscience under his intense, craving gaze…

"That's... a relief." Lily said meekly, biting the bottom of her lip as a blush rose to her cheek; his hand was still gently trailing down her leg, making her feel light-headed, "About the other night...I don't know what to tell you... I'm sorry."

Lily couldn't tell James she was purposely trying to push him away, that she was scared her attraction to him would develop into something more, something that could possibly break her already fragile heart.

"When you trust me enough to tell me," James started, moving closer to Lily and making her gulp, "you know where to find me."

"Yes...and I'll be sure to check the storage room first," Lily smiled teasingly, regaining her fire as her cherry-red lips parting pleasantly.

"You're quite cheeky, _Ms. Evans_."

"I'm sure you wouldn't have it any other way, _Lord Potter_."

"_Ahh_, you read minds, too!"

Lily giggled and got up off the floor, swiftly followed by James, who caught her hand in his and led her back out into the hall, grinning serenely. Once outside however, Lily and James immediately froze as they heard many clicking footsteps coming down the adjoining hallway.

"Dammit, I forgot half of your school is here with my mother!" James hissed, grabbing hold of Lily's forearm and pulling her into an alcove.

Lily turned around and grasped the handle on the storage room door, aghast to find the door locked. That wasn't locked a minute ago!

A horrified expression crossed Lily's face at the thought of the students, faculty and Sister Agatha catching her alone and out of school with James Potter. It was James' mother that scared him, however.

"_Hide me_!" Lily pleaded in a whisper.

There was no way around it; James would have to take Lily into the secret passage hidden behind the tapestry across the hall. James could've opened the door with magic, but he would risk exposing himself to Lily, which wasn't an option.

"Get behind this tapestry, _quick_!" James ordered, ushering an astonished redhead into the dark tunnel behind the expensively threaded cloth.

James' left ankle disappeared beneath the wall hanging just as the procession of girls and nuns turned down the hallway, led by a stylishly-fashioned Mrs. Potter.

There was no light inside the tunnel, leaving Lily and James fondling their way down the stony passage. Lily held onto the back of James' shirt, wordlessly following him as he tried to figure out where he was going.

"Where does this lead?" Lily wondered aloud, twisting James' shirt into flowers as she held on.

"The main foyer," James replied confidently, wishing he could use his wand for light, "we'll be able to get you out of here before your classmates arrive back at school and find you missing."

James and Lily emerged from a secret opening in the staircase shortly after, both making sure the coast was clear before stepping out from the shadows.

"I should go," Lily whispered, letting go of James' shirt and straightening up, "they'll be arriving soon, and I don't fancy getting whipped."

"Dirty _bitch_, that Sister Agatha." James scornfully muttered, grinning at Lily's approving, unladylike nod, "Excuse my vulgar language, my lady."

"You are pardoned, good sir." Lily mocked, pretending to curtsy as James lowly bowed and stole a glance at Lily's milky legs; he raised an eyebrow when he noticed the state of her kilt.

"What happened to your skirt?" James inquired mischievously, cocking an eyebrow as he noticed Lily's partially exposed thigh, "I hope _I_ didn't do that to you."

"Dream on, Potter!" Lily teased, smirking devilishly, "Actually, it was your good friend Sirius that couldn't seem to keep his hands off me, the idiot."

"I never liked him," James muttered sourly, mockingly shaking his head, "however, I am in his debt."

"Why?"

"Though he may be a stupid berk, I am quite grateful to him for kidnapping you," James smiled a toothy grin due to Lily's expression of girlish outrage, "even if I didn't instruct him to do so."

"Well, next time you decide to kidnap me, I'd like you to come. I'd much rather have _your_ hands all over me."

Lily froze.

O shit. O shit. O shit. I didn't just say that. I DIDN'T JUST SAY THAT! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

James looked positively gleeful after the initial shock of what Lily had said washed over him.

The redhead turned a very embarrassed pink color.

"G-g-got to run, James! Go-good-goodbye!" Lily stuttered helplessly, turning around in her spot and opening the door onto the Potter grounds, "See you!"

Lily scrambled down towards the exiting gates, glimpsing cars and people on bikes travelling down the road. Before she reached the gate, Lily heard her named being called out and footsteps quickly nearing her from behind.

O no, Sister Agatha!

Lily closed her eyes and turned around, ready to receive a long lecture, but instead felt two hands slink around her lower back and pull her against a firm, muscled body.

James Potter dipped his head low, passion coursing through his veins as he captured Lily's lips with his own, entangling his fingers in her crimson hair. Lily let out a startled, sultry moan as James fervently embraced her, running his hands up and down her back

James pulled away, breathing heavily as his swollen lips parted and his desiring eyes looked into Lily's bright green ones.

"I'll be seeing you sooner then you think, _Ms. Evans_. I'll make _sure_ of that."

* * *

_Author's Notes_

_Thanks for reading; please continue! Pop in a review if you get the chance; I'd really appreciate it!_

_Much Love! _

_pratty-prongs-princesse_


	6. Chapter 6

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 6- Lose my Breath

May 13, 1940

_Let that be realized._

_No survival for the British Empire, no survival for all the British Empire has stood for, no survival for the urge, the impulse of the ages, that mankind shall move forward toward his goal…_

"Wha-?"

"_Shh_! This is important; it's Winston Churchill!" Lily snapped, huddled by Roxanne's crystal set, listening intently to the Prime Minister's speech.

_I take up my task in buoyancy and hope. I feel sure that our cause will not be suffered to fail among men. I feel entitled at this juncture, at this time, to claim the aid of all and to say, "Come then, let us go forward together with our united strength."_

Britain was on the brink of panic; Germany had attacked Western Europe through the Ardennes Forest in southwestern Belgium over a period of six weeks, breaking French defensive lines and taking the Allies by surprise. Germany had taken over Norway and Denmark.

France was next.

"I don't understand why this is _happening_!" Roxanne sighed wearily, hugging her knees as she sat comfortably amongst the Egyptian-cotton sheets on her bed, "Why can't Germany just _screw_ off?

"It's a matter of alliances between countries, and—"

"O, _buck up_, Lily. I'm not in the mood for one of your clever tangents." Roxanne groaned, smothering her ears with a goose-down pillow, "Besides, Sister Marietta will be 'round soon to take us dress shopping."

"_Fine_, be an ignorant _berk_. See if I care!" Lily retorted offensively, crossing her arms and pouting childishly as serene sunlit poured in through Roxanne's bedroom window.

Classes had commenced for the day, and the St. Madeline's girls were all eagerly waiting to go dress shopping for the afternoon. The school was preparing to host a co-ed ball with the all-boys boarding school across town, St. Peter's, and the girls were in a mad state of frenzy and excitement.

"Common, Lily! Let's go downstairs and wait with the other girls." Roxanne chirped happily, herding the redhead like a lost lamb out of her room and into the hall, "I wonder what stores we'll be going to? As long as they have a nice red dress, I'll be pleased. What color do you want your dress to be—?"

"I fancy just going nude." Lily replied dully, not at all looking forward to the ball.

"Well, that's not fair! All the boys will want to dance with you, and I'll be crying in a corner, a pathetic wallflower!" Roxanne giggled, poking Lily's side and making her yelp, "I think you'd look lovely in green. It would bring out your eyes—"

"_Really_? With that _horrid_ red hair, I doubt Lily would look good in _any_ color!" Acantha sneered wickedly over Lily's shoulder, flipping a long strand of her beautiful black mane over her shoulder, "You can't _seriously_ be considering going to this ball, Lily? You'd make a _fool_ out of yourself, wearing a hand-me-down dress that will probably resemble a potato sack!"

"Why don't you go drown yourself in olive oil, you Greek_ bitch_?" Roxanne hissed, stepping in front of Lily as if to shield her.

"Defending your little _orphan_, are you? I never thought you a charity case, _Roxanne_." Acantha spat, her dark eyes retaining a menacing twinkle, "I suppose _ugly little whores_ stick together, isn't that right?"

Lily couldn't control her rage with Acantha any longer; she side-stepped Roxanne, who looked about to implode, and promptly hit Acantha across the face with the fleshy part of her hand, sending the Greek beauty to her knees. A crowd of girls congregated around the three gasped, some rushing to Acantha's side to help her up while others hurried to find teachers.

"I think you should buy a red dress, _Acantha_. It'll match the red _welt_ that will appear on your face soon." Lily chided, glaring down at the gob-smacked girl holding her left cheek with her hand.

"Lily…that wasn't a good idea," Roxanne whispered in her ear, clutching Lily's forearm, "when the teachers find out—"

"_Ms. Evans_!" a booming voice sounded from beyond the crowd.

The crowd parted down the middle, leaving ample room for Sister Agatha to make her way over to Lily and Acantha, who was obviously feigning a serious injury to further incriminate Lily.

"What have you _done_ to this poor girl?" Sister Agatha shrieked, scuttling over to Acantha and helping her to her feet, "_My darling_, are you alright?"

"NO! _S-s-she punched me in the face_!" Acantha cried out dramatically, evilly smirking at Lily when Sister Agatha wasn't looking.

"I did _not_ punch you, Acantha! I slapped you, which, may I add, you _deserved_." Lily said resolutely, crossing her arms.

"_Lily Evans_," Agatha growled surreptitiously, her fists rolling into balls, "you will _not_ be buying a dress or going to this ball, _do you hear me_? While we are out you will be doing dishes in the kitchen, and when I get back you will be dealt with, _understood_?"

"_Good_, I didn't want to go to this stupid ball _anyway_!" Lily retorted fiercely, ignoring Roxanne's look of horror, "I _eagerly_ await your return, _Sister._"

Lily pushed her way through the crowd of girls towards the kitchen, hatred and rage coursing through her veins. Lily was so fixated on her anger that she didn't hear some of the girls scream as pieces of the crystal chandelier above mysteriously shattered and rained down upon them.

* * *

"Have you been drinking that elixir to induce euphoria again, James?" Sirius questioned, cocking an eyebrow at the not-so-subtle, permanent grin on his best friend's face, "and I thought you'd be ringing my neck by now because of what I did the other day!"

James and Sirius had set off for a walk around London, contemplating taking a detour to Diagon Alley to pick up some odd jokes and biting slippers. It was sunny and warm, with many Londoners picnicking on the banks of the Thames River, women pushing baby carriages, and couples doing some spring shopping; all James could think about was Lily.

"_No_, I'm just happy," James replied serenely, closing his eyes and basking in the affection of the sun as he strolled down the street, "and I should ring your neck, but I'm in too good a mood."

"Why…? _Oh_…_you didn't_!" Sirius exclaimed, dealing James a hearty, congratulatory slap to the back, "_You bedded Lily_, didn't you! Congrats, Jamsie-boy! What was it like? Was she a prude like I expected?"

"_I did not bed her, you wanker_!" James growled, narrowing his eyes at the handsome boy and giving him an annoyed shove; Sirius casually bounced back to James' side, looking scandalized.

"_Why the ruddy-hell not?_ You're a rich, good-looking _Lord_, for merlin's sake!"

"Because she's not just a _piece of ass_ to me, _Sirius_!" James pronounced, his glare piercing; it didn't faze Sirius in the slightest.

"If you don't bed her soon, I bloody _will_." Sirius threatened stubbornly, crossing his arms.

"_Over my dead body_."

"That can be arranged."

"I could kill you in a second."

"No, you couldn't. Besides, I'm too good-looking to die."

"You're as homely as a flobberworm, _Sirius_, and just about as _useful_!"

"_Oh_, really? I've always had more girlfriends than _you, Potter!_"

"You pride yourself in being a _man slut_?"

"As a matter of fact, _I do_!"

"Doesn't matter; I could still kill you."

"Prove it you bast— hey! Isn't that Lily's friend over there, in that _charming_ kilt?" Sirius broke off mid-sentence, elbowing James in the ribs as he sized up the brunette schoolgirl from across the street.

"_Ow_! Where?" James said, jerking his gaze towards the procession of girls and scanning the crowds for Lily, "Which one is her best friend? Do you see Lily?"

"The buxom brunette, _obviously._" Sirius replied irritably, "What'd you say we invite her and Lily on a double date tonight, eh? Give you another chance to _seduce her_!"

"What makes you think that Lily would agree going on a date with me if _you're_ there?" James commented, frowning, "You kidnapped her, remember? And quit talking about me _seducing_ her, _you wanker_!"

"Lily will forgive me; I'm too wonderful to hate. _Besides_, who wouldn't agree to a date with us at some posh restaurant?" Sirius countered, practically laughing at the absurdness of it all, "You'll get another night with your girl, and I'll get a night with her _hot_ friend."

"I don't know…"

"Mate, you're a nutter. Let's go." Sirius said, rolling his eyes and grabbing James' wrist, attempting to pull him across the street.

* * *

Roxanne walked down the cobblestone sidewalks of Shaftsbury Avenue, a street lined with multiple boutiques housing elegant hats, shoes, and clothing. She was melancholy after what had transpired at school; she wanted to attend the ball and go dress shopping with her best friend, _not_ a bunch of snotty pole-up-the-arse rich girls.

The girls filed into a gown shop called Fairy Gothmother's Couture, a store lined with racks of beautiful dresses, laced corsets, petticoats, and lingerie. The interior was very glamorous, with intricate crown molding and chair rail, large windows, and mauve velvet curtains. It was a very classy place; Lily would've had to shop off the clearance rack if she were there.

"Alright ladies, you have an hour to pick out your gowns for the ball! Please respect the merchandise, and nothing _too_ scandalous, we are a Catholic institution, remember!" one of the nuns shouted over the loud shrieks and giggles emitting from the students.

It didn't take Roxanne, who was _quite_ unenthused, very long to find a dress that would be suitable for the ball. When she marched up to the cashier, ready to pay, she wasn't only met by the gown attendant, but a surprise as well.

The cashier took Roxanne's red dress and neatly fashioned it onto a hanger, pulling plastic over it for protection. After tying the bottom of the plastic in a firm knot, the blonde attendant handed the dress back over to Roxanne with a warm "Have a nice day!"

"Uhh…don't I have to pay for that?" Roxanne inquired skeptically, scrunching up her nose.

"The gentleman outside paid for you dress, Miss." the blonde girl politely responded, "See the one leaning on the window outside? Holding another dress in his hands?"

Roxanne looked over her shoulder and peered at the back of a strong, lean-looking man with messy black hair.

"Oh…thank you very much." Roxanne replied feebly, heading for the door to confront the man waiting outside.

James was leaning on the store window outside, looking slightly abashed, with a plastic-wrapped dress in his hands when Roxanne exited the dress shop.

"Excuse me—?" Roxanne began, her eyes widening as she realized whom she was addressing and the man standing beside him, _Sirius Black_.

"Hello," James said warmly, extending his hand towards Roxanne, "I believe we met briefly before; I'm James Potter."

"_Oh_…how do you do?" Roxanne replied curtly, feeling her ankles wobble nervously, "It's a pleasure to meet you, especially after you saved Lily…" There was a pregnant pause; "but there seems to be some confusion concerning my dress…"

"No, no confusion." James replied, glancing at Sirius for assertion, "I thought I ought to purchase your dress because I…_er_…bought Lily one as well."

"Oh…okay…that's very nice of you…but I assure you I have the funds to purchase it myself." Roxanne pronounced politely, suddenly raising a curious eyebrow, "Is there a reason _why_ you bought dresses for Lily and I?"

"I…I thought maybe you two could—" James started, having trouble getting the words out as he was afraid Lily's best friend wouldn't agree to a double date.

"What Jamsie is failing _miserably_ to ask you is if you and _darling_ Lily would like to go out to Wiltons with us tonight?" Sirius interjected, slinking beside Roxanne seductively, "Dinner is on James, _of course_."

"Are you saying _you _will be there?" Roxanne cooed, mockingly batting her eyelashes.

"Of course," Sirius grinned roguishly, grabbing Roxanne's hand and bringing it toward his lips to kiss.

"Then I must _decline_," Roxanne retorted, glaring at Sirius as she dropped her fake façade and pulled her hand free of Sirius'.

"I told you she'd say no if _you_ came!" James coarsely barked at Sirius, turning away from Roxanne and narrowing his eyes on his friend.

"_Hey!_ Why is everybody ganging up on me?" Sirius pouted, crossing his arms childishly, "I'll have you both know I'm _quite_ the catch!"

Roxanne snorted.

"Listen, Roxanne, I promise I'll make the evening worth your while and, if I have to, I'll muzzle _him._" James turned to Roxanne almost pleadingly, "I'd just like the chance to see Lily again…_please?_"

"Let's entertain the thought of us going," Roxanne said logically, looking thoughtful, "there's no way Sister Agatha will let us out on a date, especially _not_ Lily. We wouldn't be able to come anyway—"

"Steal out the window like Lily did last time." James suggested hopefully, "I'll get you girls back to school at a reasonable hour—"

"_Are you kidding_? Lily and I won't be able to sneak out until at _least_ ten o'clock, and all the restaurants will be ready for close by then." Roxanne rebutted skeptically.

"Jérôme Ponchelle is an old family friend; he'll leave the restaurant open if I ask him to." James replied confidently, "Any more qualms?"

"No…but—"

"Would you stop arguing and accept the invitation, _woman_?" Sirius burst out in exasperation, "You're driving me insane with your _lame_ excuses!"

"Why don't you _shut up_? I'm not speaking with you." Roxanne snapped tetchily, her eyes aflame.

"You're a piece of work, aren't you—?" Sirius started.

"_Shut up, Sirius_! Please, Roxanne?" James hastily inquired before her retort—he was close to pulling his hair out in frustration.

"_Fine_." Roxanne agreed stubbornly, vehemently ignoring Sirius' glower.

"Excellent! We'll meet you outside of the attic window at ten, ok? Here's the dress I bought for Lily." James said, handing the dress to Roxanne.

"Cheers. Ten o'clock, then." Roxanne murmured, her grey eyes still trying to comprehend the situation.

James and Sirius stalked off, Sirius winking as he looked over his shoulder; Roxanne rolled her eyes at the idiotic rich boy.

"It ought to be an interesting night_, that's for sure_." Roxanne mumbled to herself, inwardly grinning as she made her way back to St. Madeline's school.

* * *

_History will be kind to me for I intend to write it._

"Trust Winston Churchill to come up with a witty quip like that," one of the older male dishwashers said to another, chuckling, "maybe 'e can _talk_ us outta this war we're all mixed up in!"

"Well if anyone could do it, it'd be him." the other retorted, scrubbing grim off the bottom of the pot he clutched with an iron-wool brush.

Lily listened to the two man talk subtly, cleaning a set of tea cups and saucers in soapy water as her punishment required her to do. She was angry, no, _enraged_ at the unfairness of her life. She didn't ask for this, this _stupidity_!

Lily irritably plunged her hand into a sink full of water, ready to clean another plate, but when she extracted her hand the water automatically began to bubble, a signal it had boiled. Lily stared down at the water, stunned, and dropped the plate she held, sending it crashing to the floor.

_Lord__! How did that happen?_

"_Lily_!" Roxanne hissed, peaking through a crack in the kitchen door and jogging Lily out of her horrified stupor, "Hey _red_, come here!"

Lily arched an eyebrow and headed for the exit of the kitchen, wondering why Roxanne was back at school so early from shopping. She'd barely been gone an hour…

"What'd you think you're doing?" Lily snapped half-heartedly, staring at Roxanne curiously, "If Aggie catches you talking to me she'll throw a fit and make you clean dishes too!"

"So? I'd probably be more fun cleaning with you than dress shopping with a bunch of girly _gits_!" Roxanne whispered, rolling her grey eyes, "But that's not why I came. Looks like you and I will be going out on the town tonight!"

"What are you on about?" Lily questioned skeptically, putting her hands on her waist and tapping her left foot on the marble floor, "Care to explain?"

"I ran into James Potter in the boutique," Roxanne started, watching Lily's face flush pink and her eyes ignite, "he's gone and invited us to dinner tonight with his idiot-of-a-friend, _Sirius_."

"You're joking!" Lily almost screamed, the color draining from her face; if the dishwashers hadn't been so absorbed in Churchill's speech, they would've chastised her for taking a break, "_We couldn't possibly_—"

"It's too late, I've agreed and James has gone and bought you a dress for tonight." Roxanne pressed the plastic wrapped dress into Lily's hands and smirked, "He fancies you, doesn't he? Practically _begged_ me to agree so he could see you again!"

"But how—?" Lily inquired, looking caught in a pleasant daze, "when—?"

"I'll meet you in your room at nine thirty, ok? We'll get dressed up and ready for Wiltons. I hope you like seafood!" Roxanne exclaimed excitedly, winking at Lily and running back up the hallway, a slight bounce in her step.

_I'm going to see James again._

The last time Lily had seen James…he'd _kissed_ her…

* * *

"My collar is too tight!" Sirius whined, pulling at the fabric as he and James made their way towards St. Madeline's school, "Aren't we a little _too_ dressed up?"

"Wiltons requires dinner jackets, you know that." James replied dryly, looking handsome and suave in his tailored jacket.

It was close to ten o'clock; the night air was getting nippy as a full moon reflected over the surface of the Thames River. James wouldn't admit it, but he was nervous. The last time he'd seen Lily they had kissed and he wasn't quite sure if awkwardness would linger between the two of them because of it. The kiss shared between them had strengthened his feelings for Lily, but had it hindered hers? Brooding over the kiss had nearly driven him to insanity.

"Which one is her window?" Sirius asked, squinting as he observed the school grounds and the high walls, "How the _blazes_ are they going to climb down a wall without killing themselves?"

"I've seen Lily do it before…common, her window's the one by the ivy." James replied curtly, unfastening a few buttons on his shirt to show his chest.

"Trying to look sexy, are we?" Sirius smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously, "So Miss Evans won't be able to keep her hands off you?"

"Shut up," James insisted, failing to hold back a nervous grin, "you're a git."

"Better a git than a git _in love_!" Sirius cocked an eyebrow, pretending to swoon.

"I am _not_ in love." James narrowed his eyes, his cheeks suddenly turning red.

"Could've fooled me—"

"That's enough out of you…let's see if Lily and Roxanne are ready, shall we?" James quickly changed the subject, turning away from Sirius, who was still grinning.

"RUPENZEL, RUPENZEL, LET DOWN YOUR LONG HAIR!" Sirius immediately shouted, dodging James as he attempting to mask the sound of his voice with his hand.

"_Wake up the whole school, why don't_ _you_?" James hissed angrily, his temper flaring.

"Is that you, James?" Roxanne skeptically popped her head out of the attic window and looked down at the two noblemen, "_What do you think you're doing_, shouting like that!?"

"It was _Sirius_!" James replied, angrily ignoring his protests, "Are you and Lily ready?"

"Give us five minutes!" Roxanne whispered, ducking back into the dusty attic, "Lily, are you dressed yet?"

Lily came around the corner she was changing behind, hands nervously having nothing to do as they fell to her sides. She was wearing a beautiful silk dress, a deep emerald color, which was cut above the knees and backless. The luxurious material clung to her every curve, accentuating her hips and bust line, and the neckline was suggestive but classy. Lily wore a simple pair of black pumps (borrowed from Roxanne) and clutched a black jacket to cover her shoulders when she was outside.

"You look gorgeous!" Roxanne squealed, wearing a pale pink dress of equal elegance and style, "that James Potter has excellent taste!"

"You don't think I look like a whale?" Lily asked weakly, admired the dress in her floor length mirror, "I feel like the dress is too regal to be worn by someone like me…"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Roxanne scoffed, frowning, "It fits you wonderfully! Your eyes and complexion really stand out, not to mention your red hair."

"If you say so," Lily mumbled incoherently.

"Let's not leave the boys waiting…shall we?" Roxanne smiled confidently, an assuring look upon her face, "I saw James; he looks _very_ handsome, Lily." She gulped.

"Can you believe we're doing this, Roxanne?" Lily asked doubtfully, scrunching up her nose, "We are going on dates with perhaps the two _most_ sought after bachelors in London, or so the tabloids say."

"No, I can't believe it," Roxanne smiled, taking Lily's hand, "but I think we deserve it. Are you ready? You look great, don't worry!"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Lily breathed apprehensively, putting on her jacket and self-consciously buttoning it up to the top.

Back on the lush-green lawn, Sirius was pacing around James impatiently:

"Shall I dig myself a grave?" Sirius turned to James, rolling his eyes, "because I might die standing here, we've been waiting so long. It's _absurd_."

"Here they come…" James whispered nervously, ignored Sirius and seeing Roxanne attempting to climb out the window on the vines, "Are you alright, Roxanne?"

"I'll be fine, thank you!"

"I'll catch you if you fall, _darling_." Sirius called back up, grinning at his partial view up Roxanne's skirt; he felt his body reacting to the sight.

"I'd rather fall!" Roxanne snapped back bitingly, gradually making her way down.

"_Why you little bitc_-!"

"Be a gentleman, _Sirius_!" James scolded seriously, a threatening look upon his attractive face, "Ruin this night for me and you _will_ regret it."

"Would you_ relax_?" Sirius huffed, crossing his arms.

Lily began to descend the vine as Roxanne grounded, her simple black pumps making it difficult to get a good footing in the slithering foliage. James hovered below her, studying her every move in case she fell. As she neared the bottom his hands planted firmly on her hips.

"_My lady_," James cooed suavely, extending a hand to Lily as she dismounted from the vines and smirking as she rolled her eyes at his formality.

"You're full of it." Lily mocked, smiling and taking his hand.

"I know," James grinned, his hair messy and black suit crisp, "you look… _wonderful_."

"Thank you, _Lord _Potter." Lily teased, reminding herself that Roxanne and Sirius were still there, "You and Sirius look quite dashing as well."

"We were blessed with good looks, weren't we, Jamsie?" Sirius announced arrogantly, his pearly whites gleaming as he inspected his pocket watch.

"It seems you were also blessed with an inflated _ego_." Roxanne commented blithely, ignoring Sirius' glare, "I don't know about you three, but I'm famished. Shall we?"

"Yes, of course." James agreed, entangling his arm with Lily's and, with a murderous glower, goading Sirius into doing the same with Roxanne, "It's a short walk to Wiltons; it's only just down the Thames River."

Wiltons was indeed close, located on Jermyn Street only a few blocks away from the river and Hyde Park. The restaurant was in close proximity to many popular destinations, including the West End theatres and cinemas, Haymarket, Shaftesbury Avenue, Leicester Square, the National Gallery, the National Portrait Gallery, and the Royal Academy.

The front of the restaurant was classy in look, having a large mahogany door and display window with pesto colored curtains and gold lettering. The group of four entered the rich atmosphere, which smelled like freshly baked Yorkshire pudding and lobster, and were lead by a smartly dressed host to a reserved table near the back of the building. There weren't many people dining; rather they were finishing their dessert wine and smoking, preparing to leave.

"Are you sure we're allowed to eat this late?" Lily inquired, anxiously eyeing the empty restaurant.

"I called in a favor with Jérôme Ponchelle, don't worry." James smiled, helping Lily take her jacket off and gulping as his knuckles brushed her bare shoulders. Lily shifted shyly under James fevered stare and blushed when he pulled out a chair for her to sit in.

He was jogged out of his lusty stupor by a man dressed in coattails; the host.

"Good evening Lord Potter, Lord Black… ladies." a middle-aged waiter said monotonously, slightly bowing his head towards the males, "My name is Marc and I will be your server for the evening. May I start you off with drinks?"

"A bottle of your finest Bordeaux, if you please." James ordered nonchalantly, not bothering to open his wine menu, "Lily, Roxanne, do you like red wine?"

"Yes," Lily and Roxanne said simultaneously, not about to protest to anything.

"Very good, sir. That would be our Chateau _Cheval Blanc, St Emilion 1er Grand Cru Cl_ass_e_." the waiter repeated in a perfect accent, standing perfectly straight with both hands behind his back, "Four glasses, I assume?"

"Only three. I'm not one for expensive wine. I'll have a beer, whatever is on tap." Sirius cut in sharply, catching James' smirk as he leaned back in his upholstered chair.

"_Of course_, Lord Black."

Out of curiosity, Lily opened her wine menu and looked for the wine James had just ordered. She almost choked.

_£1400.00!!_

"You bought a _£1400.00 _bottle of wine?" Lily managed hoarsely, the color draining from her face as the menu fell out of her hands, "That's _half_ my bloody tuition fees for a _year_!"

"Oh…so I did." James replied calmly, looking somewhat uneasy at Lily's outrage, "Is that a problem?"

"That is a _ridiculous_ amount of money!" Lily practically shrieked, gripping the arms of her chair, "How could you spend it so…so _freely_?"

"To us that's hardly a large sum of money." Sirius smiled somewhat arrogantly, arching an eyebrow in intrigue, "Explore the Potter wine cellars and you'll understand how trivial one bottle is."

"I've gotten lost down there before," James added, appearing troubled, "it's like a labyrinth of bottles and wine cages."

"Wasn't that the time you began to scream and cry?" Sirius added, mischievously grinning at his friends' obvious embarrassment, "Almost wet yourself, as I recall."

Lily and Roxanne instantly burst into giggles, shielding their humor in their textile napkins.

"For your information I was _six_," James grumbled, crossing his arms at the table's snorts of laughter, "but that isn't half as bad as the time you hid under my bed for a week after your mother found out it was _you _that set her hair on fire during that dinner party!"

"How old was he when that happened?" Lily inquired, grinning at Sirius' sheepish grin.

"That was last year!"

"You set your _mother's_ hair on fire?" Roxanne chortled in utter shock, one gloved hand covering her mouth.

"Well, she was being a right _bitch_ the whole evening." Sirius explained, as if it justified his actions, "She chased me around the whole party, trying to set me up with this awful looking girl, _Helga_."

"Oh, you're exaggerating! I'm sure she wasn't _that_ bad!" Roxanne protested.

"No, she _was_." Sirius remembered, trembling at the mental picture.

"Let's just say she makes that nun _Agatha_ look like a _beauty queen_." James agreed, his expression sour, "I'd say Agatha is about half the size of her, too."

"And here I thought _the whale_ was the biggest mammal on earth!" Lily blurted out, disgusted by the mere mention of Agatha's name.

The waiter returned minutes later, toting a steaming basket of bread and pushing a trolley with a bottle of room-temperature Bordeaux in a wine bucket, three ballooned wine glasses, and a frosted-mug of beer.

James politely poured three glasses of wine and passed them around the table. Lily picked up her glass and swished the contents around, seemingly adding to the bouquet by airing it, and reluctantly took a sip. The liquid was bitter, yet sweet, with a lingering aftertaste. It was good, but hardly worth such a large sum of money.

"Any idea what you'll order?" James directed the question towards Lily and Roxanne, "I recommend the smoked eel—"

"No, the dressed crab is much better." Sirius argued.

"Oh, really? What's the crab wearing?" Roxanne quipped, making Lily grin and James shake his head in amusement.

"Certainly nothing as seductive as that dress _you're_ wearing." Sirius winked, causing Roxanne to go red.

"I think that's his way of saying you look nice," Lily smiled, patting Roxanne's hand in assurance.

"Don't get me wrong, Ms. Evans. I think you look ravishing this evening, too," Sirius grinned, "but I've always had a taste for brunettes, myself."

"Brunettes? I can't seem to find that on the menu." James pondered aloud, frowning, "I'll just have to settle on a pretty redhead, instead."

"Like spicy food, do you?" Sirius grinned, making James laugh and Lily roll her eyes.

"Well, if you two are quite done referring to us as _food_, I'd like to tell you what I'll order," Roxanne interrupted, determinedly folding out her menu.

The waiter returned after ten minutes, scribbling down the group's orders. Roxanne ordered Lobster bisque Newburg with a side order of seasoned vegetables, Lily ordered the avocado pear with white crab meat and a roquette parmesan salad, Sirius ordered poached wild turbot with French farmhouse cheese, and James ordered warm beef consommé with a cucumber salad.

The bill was going to be a _hefty_ one.

"So, what do schoolgirls do in their free time?" Sirius commented, slicing his fish with a silver knife, "Take _long_ showers in the communal bathroom, perhaps wrestle?"

"_Dream on_." Roxanne scoffed, dropping her fork.

"Believe me, _I do_." Sirius retorted teasingly.

"Sirius, do us all a favor and keep your _perverse_ thoughts to yourself." James ordered, though a glimmer of a smile shone through his stern façade.

Dinner finished a half an hour later, the four chatting among themselves about nothing important and feasting on the delectable meal before them. Lily hadn't spoken much, preferring to listen to James and Sirius narrate all the preposterous situations they had found themselves in and to Roxanne bicker due to Sirius' lewd comments. It was when Roxanne and Sirius fought, seemingly immersed in their own worlds, that Lily found James' intense eyes tracing her, making her feel naked under his probing stare. She'd shyly look up and meet his eyes, then, almost as quickly, look away, pretending to be interested in Roxanne and Sirius' conversations.

"Have you looked at the dessert menu, Lily?" James asked Lily gently, ignoring Roxanne and Sirius' verbal spar, "The _petits fours _here are quite sweet."

"I'm full, thank you." Lily smiled weakly, nervously straightening in her chair as James leaned in toward her.

"Have…have I said something to offend you?" James whispered worriedly, perturbed by Lily's resounding silence and awkwardness, "You're so quiet?"

"No! I… I'm having a lovely time," Lily whispered back helplessly, her eyes pleading, "it's just…I'm overwhelmed, I suppose. All this wealth and beauty…I just feel like I don't belong...You must think me stupid—"

"_Never_." James softly insisted, his genuine eyes assuring as he discreetly slipped his hand over hers, which lay gracefully on her lap, "What do you say we get out of here?"

"Where?" Lily smiled.

"I'm sure Sirius will know of some place." James grinned, glad to see Lily perk up.

"I heard my name…you two aren't plotting my death, I hope!" Sirius looked at the two suspiciously, moving his hand toward the butter knife.

"If you are, count me _i__n_." Roxanne added pleasantly, beaming.

"You horrible, _horrible_ woman." Sirius cried, his bottom lip mockingly trembling in terror, "Roxanne will be the next ripper… or should I say, _stripper?_"

He was smacked over the head by the feisty brunette.

"Marc? Cheque, please!" James called out to one of the waiters serving their table, not having to wait very long, seeing as the restaurant was empty except for them.

The four diners stepped back out into the cool air, firmly grasping their jackets around their shivering figures. It was a little past midnight and the streets reflected the time, being very empty and devoid of movement. Streets lights lazily lit the sidewalks along the river, reflecting on the wet surface, and a solitary cat dashed across the road into an alcove between some rubbish bins.

"So, what'd say we have some _real_ fun?" Sirius grinned with a half-moon smile, his hands deep in his pockets.

"What did you have in mind?" James raised an eyebrow, stopping in the middle of the street with the others and discreetly positioning himself near Lily.

"Do you realize what time it is?" Roxanne politely demanded, looking skeptically at Lily, "We should probably be getting back…"

"Oh, _pleas_e. Dinner was only half the fun!" Sirius smiled, snatching Roxanne's hand in his own and looking positively playful, "Common!"

Sirius broke into a run down the street, laughing hard at Roxanne's shrieks of protest as he dragged her along beside him.

"Where's he going?" Lily asked, looking shocked as he dragged her friend away.

"There's only one way to find out," James grinned, holding out his hand for Lily, "shall we?"

Lily could never remember running so fast in her entire life. Her red curls bounced merrily as she and James sprinted after Sirius and Roxanne, both laughing as they watched each other almost trip on fallen branches or run into lamp posts.

James pulled her along beside him, his face lighting up with excitement every time Lily giggled or excitably exclaimed her legs would give out at any moment.

Sirius quickly turned down an alley with Roxanne, but when Lily and James turned the corner they were gone. The alley vibrated with loud, enthusiastic music, which could be heard booming from the street. One door remained ajar with a hanging sign above it reading "The Old Bell".

"The git brought us to an Irish Pub!" James snorted, Lily watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat, "I've never been here before, are you sure—?"

"_Stop worrying!_ I want to go inside!" Lily keenly assured James, taking him aback by grabbing a fistful of his jacket and pulling him inside the pub.

Roxanne and Sirius had just taken seats at the bar when Lily and James entered, making their way through the labyrinth of people towards them. The pub seemed alive with music and dancing, musicians playing violins, drums, and tapping spoons on their knees. It was very casual and _not_ formal, a place primarily suited for the working class of London as opposed to the rich, lordly-type like James and Sirius.

"Took you two long enough!" Sirius attempted to say above the music, seemingly enthralled with the atmosphere he was in—_his_ element, "What'd think of this place, eh? Great, isn't it?"

"You picked an... interesting place, I'll give you that." James said, looking around in bewilderment at all the activity.

"It's wonderful, Sirius!" Lily agreed, exchanging a look with Roxanne, "I _love_ dancing!"

"I can't wait to see _you_ dance, Sirius." James grinned, knowing it would turn into quite the spectacle.

"I'll need a beer first!" Sirius slapped his hand down on the bar, nodding his head as the bartender slid a large beer glass full of draft down the bar top, "What'll you have, ladies? Something… _dainty_?"

Roxanne and Lily smirked boldly, rolling their eyes.

"We'll have what he's having." Lily ordered, pointing to Sirius' drink, "A couple of shots of tequila too, thanks!"

Sirius and James' jaws dropped.

"You look surprised? We'll drink you under the table, boys!" Roxanne beamed, feeling the music and craving to dance.

The bartender placed four shots of tequila on a dirty tray in front of them; Lily and Roxanne quickly grabbed their shots and whipped back the yellow alcohol, biting on lemons after to albeit the bitter taste.

"Drink your beers and meet us on the dance floor." Lily whispered in James' ear, grinning at his surprised expression of awe and letting Roxanne drag her out of her seat.

Sirius and James watched the girls assimilate into the crowd, moving their hips and doing some fancy footwork with the rest of the dynamic crowd, both aghast. It seemed the dancing and drinking atmosphere wasn't only Sirius' element.

"Ok, I'll admit it, I wasn't expecting that." Sirius beamed towards the girls, packing his shot of tequila back with utter ease as he leaned back in his barstool, "A piquant pair of friends, aren't they?"

"Yes, _thank god_." James agreed, taking hearty swigs of his beer, "They aren't anything like the _drab_ society girls we're used to dating."

"You mean you've never seen _Ms. Collins_ drink like a man?" Sirius asked sarcastically, his face contorted in disgust, "I'm sure she would if it meant you caving into her _sexual_ advances."

"I think I'd rather eat mud, thanks," James replied, equally disgusted at the memory of Ms. Collins trying to push her way into his house.

"No, you'd rather give in to _Ms. Evans_!" Sirius cackled in his drink.

"True, but we won't tell her that." James grinned devilishly, running his fingers through his brown hair, "I wouldn't want to scare her off."

"You're right," Sirius commented out of character, looking relaxed but serious, "Lily's something else... turns out you picked a good one."

"I told you she was different," James trailed off, smiling at the way she danced in sync with the music, her arms above her head as she moved sinuously, "the woman's _intoxicating_. I wonder if she notices how often I find myself staring at her…"

"_Oogling_ her is more like it. Roxanne isn't too hard on the eyes, either." Sirius added, ordering another beer and smirking as a girl across the room winked at him and waved him over, "Oh look, I'm being beckoned. _Duty calls_!"

"Then I better persuade you onto the dance floor before your attention wanders from Roxanne to some other good looking broad." James rolled his eyes as Sirius winked back, roughly pushing him onto the dance floor, consuming his shot of tequila first.

"What can I say? I'm too handsome for my own good." Sirius announced effortlessly, feeling a pleasant buzz as he and James made their way toward the girls.

Lily was dancing beside Roxanne, her body moving to the rhythm of the music, when she felt a hand gently slink around her waist. Lily abruptly turned around and found herself chest to chest with James, minus his dinner jacket. He had an aroused look in his eyes, an almost carnal expression, but his movements were gentle and amicable.

"I need your help," James said, dipping his head low and coming daringly close to touching her lips with his, "there's a problem. You see, I want to dance with you _very_ badly."

"T-t-then what's stopping you?" Lily breathed, her eyes focusing on James' lips as she felt herself flushing due to their closeness.

James tilted her chin upwards, forcing her to gaze into his eyes. She froze, entranced.

"I don't know how to dance."

Lily broke into a ridiculous smile.

The men gradually began to filter onto the dance floor, ready to take partners and dance to the next Irish tune. The drums steadily grew louder and people began to take position.

"Imagine _that_! A Lord that can't dance." Lily grinned, her green eyes shining.

"I haven't given you permission to make fun of me." James pointed out, folding his arms, "I supplied you with such information on good faith, thinking you wouldn't ridicule me."

"I don't need _your_ permission," Lily teased, hearing the song gradually picking up speed, "now, take my right hand and put your left on my back."

"Not on your _lower_ waist?" James cocked an eyebrow, seductively smirking.

"No, that would be inappropriate." Lily pointed out, blushing.

"But I thought the waltz was suppose to be deliciously _inappropriate_." James whispered, pulling Lily close, which made her gasp as his body pressed against hers, and strategically placing his hands in her delegated areas, "Shall we?"

Before she could protest, James began to lead Lily about the room in a frenzied version of the waltz, the music energizing his movements and making them both unexpectedly smile. As Lily turned and trounced the wooden floor with her feet, only adding to the music, she glimpsed Sirius and Roxanne dancing across the room, seemingly as happy as she was.

"You said you couldn't dance!" Lily exclaimed, giggling as he scurried about the dance floor impressively, smiling triumphantly.

James had lied; he was a wonderful dancer. Lily supposed he had been taught many different dances, having to attend wealthy society parties, but this dance was natural and fun—not the sort of dance that could be taught by a snobby ex-ballerina.

_Lily's laughter and smiles are simply contagious_— James thought.

When the dance ended, Lily and James made their way over to Sirius and Roxanne and they danced in a group to the next song, making up silly moves and consuming more alcohol.

"You're such a lousy dancer!" Roxanne exclaimed in amusement as Sirius attempted to spin on his head, instead bashing into a table.

"I'm talented, I'll have you know!" Sirius huffed, dancing erratically in circles around Roxanne.

"The next Fred Astaire, this one." James mockingly added, cocking an eyebrow at his fallen comrade and slyly coming up behind Lily and kissing the skin under her right ear.

Lily made a little guttural noise in surprise, saucily eyeing James over her shoulder.

"Lord Potter, where are your manners?" Lily whispered.

"Must have left them in my other pants." James whispered back, pressing himself against her bare back.

"Then I suppose you have no reason for wearing these ones." Lily replied covertly, turning red because of her boldness.

"What are you implying?" James throatily inquired, planting another kiss on her shoulder.

"I...I...I—"

**Click.**

Lily had found herself moving in sync with James, they bodies rubbing up against one another's. Her back tingled where his hands had touched her, making her ache for more. They were close to grinding, but James had miraculously controlled himself for the sake of Lily—he didn't want to move too quickly. Besides, he knew Lily wasn't sober _enough_ to consent.

**Click.**

Sirius was up on one of the tables, dancing and showing off to a group of girls that had congregated around him. He offered a hand to Roxanne, pulling her up with him and moving familiarly with her body. They were both _very_ tipsy.

**Click.**

**Click.**

**Click.**

After about two hours, the bar stopped serving drinks, the music stopped, and people started to head home, ready to face their upcoming hangovers. Sirius and Roxanne stumbled out of the bar into the alley, while James, still sober, had one of Lily's arms draped around his neck, offering support.

"Sirius, we've got to get the girls back to school." James said firmly, watching Lily's drooping eyelids drop and rise.

Sirius appeared from behind a rubbish bin.

"_No_, James. We've got one more place to go!" Sirius managed, trying to sound firm as he picked a banana peel out of his hair.

"_Sirius_, it's ridiculously late, you're drunk—"

"It's worth it! Believe me; _you won't want to miss this_!" Sirius announced, helping Roxanne to her feet, "You ok, _Lilllyyyyy_?"

"I'm Roxanne," Roxanne slurred in annoyance, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve; she had just thrown up.

"Oh...yah," Sirius squinted in concentration, looking at her, "anyway, let's go!"

"What'd you say, Lily?" Roxanne asked, turning toward her friend.

Lily's head lifelessly bobbed to the side, resting on James' shoulder.

"We'll take that as a yes." Sirius confirmed, taking Roxanne's hand and leading her out of the alley, "Coming, _Jamsie_?"

James incoherently cursed as he picked Lily up in his muscular arms, her head still in the crook of his neck, and followed his two drunken friends out of the alley. If he had his way he would bring the sleeping redhead straight to his house, but he didn't want her and Roxanne to get into any more trouble...after all, wouldn't the beatings just get worse?

**Click.**

James found Sirius and Roxanne sitting on the muddy bank of the Thames River, a beer bottle limply held in Sirius' hand, looking expectantly up at the sky, which was a charcoal gray.

"What are we doing?" James heaved, reluctantly depositing Lily onto the cold grass and taking a seat beside the enraptured pair, "You're both _drunk_, did you know?"

"Would you stop grumbling and relax for a moment?" Sirius demanded exasperatedly, balancing on his backhands, than collapsing onto his spine, "It'll only be another twenty minutes, _max_!"

"These two are going to _freeze_ to death!" James retorted, noticing Roxanne slightly shivering, "Whatever you need to show us it can—"

"What's going on?" Lily inquired imprecisely, looking fatigued as she rose from the grass into a sitting position, "Why am I all... _muddy_?"

"Look whose back from her alcohol-induced slumber!" Sirius grinned, taking a long draught of his beer.

"Here, take my jacket." James said in a concerned voice, wrapping the black suit jacket around her arms, "Sirius wants to show us something, but I think he's just—"

"Ok, everybody listen up!" Sirius announced, cutting James off, "In order to fully appreciate this experience, you need to lay flat on the grass, so _do it_!"

James looked skeptical, but Lily shrugged and lay back on the cool grass, the night air nipping at her nose. James half-hearted obliged when Sirius and Roxanne did the same, pulling Lily closer to him to warm her as the four people lay side-by-side, insignificant specs in the expansive universe.

"Now," Sirius whispered, being the only sound other than the chirping crickets—the night's symphony, "look into the sky. Memorize every cloud and star, their colors and shapes."

The four lay motionless and silent, but Lily could feel James' chest rise and fall as her hand rested atop it. His cologne smelled like vanilla beans and sandalwood.

"Ok, now close your eyes. Keep that image in your mind, and open them when I tell you to." Sirius ordered softly, watching his three friends close their eyes and proceed to wait.

James didn't feel cold anymore. The air felt neutral against his skin. One of his arms was looped around Lily's waist, protectively pulling her close. When he had done so, she hadn't protested. Her hair was soft against his left cheek, and his chest burned where her hand was touching it. He couldn't help but notice how petit she was beside him—how soft the skin on her back was—how her lips slightly parted as she slept.

_I wish I didn't feel this way about you._

**Click.**

_I know we can't be._

**Click.**

_Two worlds separate us._

**Click.**

_Yet here we are, Lily. _

**Click.**

_Together._

"Alright, open your eyes." Sirius whispered.

It had felt like minutes, but an hour had disappeared, and with it, the charcoal sky.

"It's...it's..." Roxanne started, overcome.

"_Beautiful_," Lily whispered, red hair falling into her face as she found a moment to turn away from the sky and look into James' blazing eyes.

"Yes, beautiful…" James repeated faintly, losing himself in the windows to her soul.

James slipped his hand around Lily's, and without Sirius and Roxanne noticing, kissed it, his lips lingering longer then intended.

The morning horizon was a deep, embellished pink, violet lining every sculpted cloud from London to Bristol. The colors were so vivid they looked like they belonged in a Monet painting housed in Paris' famous art gallery, _the Louvre_.

Sirius and Roxanne gaped at the beautiful sunrise, while James pulled Lily into a soft, blissful kiss, his hands tracing her back underneath the coat he'd placed around her shivering shoulders. All happy, all oblivious.

_He_ waited in the bushes, watching the group carefully...

* * *

Author's Notes

This is definitely one of my favorite chapters. Thank you for reading, and please review if you are enjoying the story so far!

Much Love,

pratty-prongs-princesse


	7. Chapter 7

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter Seven- Only Love can make it Rain

_Warning: Moderate Sexual Content in this chapter! Young'ins beware!_

"Mi'lady? Where shall I set down your tea?" a young female servant inquired timidly, wearing a crisp white dress that stopped above her ankles.

"Bring it to me." a beautiful blonde woman demanded snobbishly, stretching elegantly in her claw-foot bathtub, lavender scented bubbles tickling her chin, "Have you baked the biscuits _correctly_ this time, _Amelia_?"

"Yes, Mi'lady! I'm terribly sorry, Mi'lady!" the servant bowed lowly, depositing a silver tray on the small table near the tub.

Underneath the plate of steaming bread lay the morning's copy of _The Sunday Chatter_, a gossip magazine filled to the brim with scandalous pictures and ill reported stories about society's nobility—it was a _must_ read.

Ms. Collins stepped out of the tub, wrapping a silk bathrobe around her body. The door-length windows in the grand bathroom were open, letting morning air waft about the room, cooling the tiled floor. She took a seat on one of the upholstered stools and tucked into her breakfast, flippantly pulling the magazine out from under her plate.

She froze, the front-page headline catching her attention.

_**Potter Playboy and Posse on the Prowl! **_

She screamed piercingly, her blonde curls bobbing erratically as she turned around and whipped her china tea cup at the wall.

* * *

James Potter lay stretched along his king-size bed, his bare chest exposed from beneath the linen sheets. He looked peaceful and serene, a small smile lingering on his lips. Last night turned out better than he could've imagined. Recalling the memories had kept him up for much of morning, but sleep had eventually come.

It wasn't going to be peaceful around the house for much longer, though.

"WAKE UP, JAMSIE!" Sirius shouted, bursting through the room's double doors and launching himself onto James' bed.

James blearily opened his eyes, observing Sirius laying down beside him, looking intently back at him.

"What do you want, _wanker_?" James mumbled, burying his face in his pillow and proceeding to pretend Sirius wasn't there.

"I thought you'd like me to break the news to you first." Sirius explained, pushing him roughly and sending him off the bed onto the floor.

"_Bloody git_!" James cursed, picking himself up off the floor and glaring at his supposed best friend, "What _news_? You've finally learned how to tie your shoes?" James snapped sarcastically.

"No, I'm still having trouble with that." Sirius mocked, rolling his eyes, "Looks like Jamsie-boy has made the _oh so _prestigious _Chatter_."

James gulped and picked up the magazine Sirius had chucked onto his bed. He scanned the headline and scowled.

The first picture was of him kissing Lily's shoulder, his hands wrapped around her waist. The second was of him and Lily dancing, their bodies _very_ close. The third was of Sirius dancing alone atop a table, many girls surrounding him and a beer in his right hand. The fourth was of James carrying a drunken Lily out of the alley, and the last was of the group lying along the bank of the Thames River.

"_Who is this mysterious red-head James Potter has his eye on_? This isrubbish!" James shouted, his voice resounding, "Did you see the photographer following us?"

"Of course I didn't!" Sirius replied, looking outraged, "We might've been identified, but the girls haven't. In half the pictures you can't even make out Lily's face."

"You're right," James replied, looking relieved as he closely observed the pictures again, "but still, I think anyone who knows her would be able to tell."

"Maybe you should owl her." Sirius suggested, crossing his arms thoughtfully, "Do you think one of those magazines could get into the hands of a nun at her school?"

"What nun would read a gossip magazine? I thought they just read the Bible," James frowned unhappily, "and how can I owl her? She's a Muggle, wouldn't she find that a _tad_ strange?"

"You're a _bloody_ Lord! That's entitles you to…_odd_ resources!" Sirius snapped back, sounding unsure of his alternative.

Before James could retort, the doors to his room slammed open, this time admitting a sophisticated woman with long black hair and purple eyes. She wore a short black dress that was cut above her knees, tall black pumps, and a regal wide-brimmed hat—it was James' _mother_.

"_James Gerald_." Marissa Potter hissed, looking furious as she stepped into his room unannounced.

"_Mother?_ What are _you_ doing here?" James asked sharply, his brow furrowing in confusion, "I thought you were off _vegetating_ in Paris?"

"Sirius, I'll ask you to give my son and I a moment to talk privately." Marissa ordered, simulating politeness, "I have just spoken with Lady Walburga and she is eager to converse with you as well."

Sirius and James exchanged pained looks before Sirius apparated out of the room, slightly bowing towards James' mother before his exit. However, Sirius had no intention of facing his _dear_ mother, Lady Walburga, when he returned home. James thought it was much more likely that he was off to claim sanctuary in a pub for a few hours.

"What do you want?" James asked flatly, in no way inclined to amuse his mother with a respectful façade, "I'll ask you to _knock_ the next time you wish to see me."

Marissa ignored him, her purple eyes burning with rage.

"You have dishonored your family, _James Gerald Potter_!" Marissa shrieked, her flawless skin turning red, "How _dare_ you go off gallivanting in some muggle dump with this, _this trash_!"

She picked up the magazine on his bed and pointed her manicured finger to the picture of him and Lily. She then whipped the magazine at his chest, where he caught it, in utter disgust.

"She's _not_ trash." James said, looking serious and unflinching under his mother's glare, "She's more refined than any of the ditzy society _rubbish_ you try to set me up with."

"Have I taught you _nothing_?" Marissa spat, enraged, "You _will_ do as I say, and I order you never to see this… _whore_ again!"

"You can't stop me." James seethed, controlling the urge to hit his mother across the face.

"I can have your inheritance _abolished_, James Gerald. How would you like that?" Mrs. Potter threatened, looking frenzied, "Do not think I haven't any control over _you_!"

"Now that's an empty threat, if I've ever heard one! You'll have my trust fund taken away? Do you think it will improve the Potter reputation, me living on the streets?" James challenged, smirking, "I can see the headlines now, _London's richest family kicks son to curb_!"

"Just wait until your father gets home!" Marissa snarled, a very un-ladylike gesture, "He will set you straight—force you to erase this ridiculous _fixation_ you have."

"I'd much rather speak with him than _you_." James affirmed, a goading look upon his face, "Now, do me a favour and _get out_."

Marissa glowered at her son before stomping out of his room and slamming the double doors shut. She was _not_ the type of woman to be toiled with, and she would figure out who it was James was seeing.

She wouldn't rest until she did.

* * *

Lily's moccasin-style shoes scuffed the hardwood in the dining hall as she lazily made her way over to the table where Roxanne sat, elbows propped impolitely on the table. The English sky, seen via the dining room windows, was splotched with salt and pepper clouds, some melancholy and others virtually transparent. Lily was sure a storm was brewing.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine this morning?" Lily mocked tiredly, plopping down into a cushy chair beside Roxanne, whose eyes were as puffy as the torso of a blow fish.

"You don't exactly look smashing _either_." Roxanne retorted, glaring up at the redhead, "Although, you seem unnaturally happy, which is uncharacteristic because you hate waking up early."

Lily looked over her shoulder, than leaned in toward Roxanne, "Last night was amazing, don't you think? Our first _all-nighter_! We've _got_ to sneak out more often!"

"Yes, but I can barely remember it because I was so sloshed!" Roxanne giggled, making sure to keep her voice down, "We were all in a _right_ state!"

"We were all liquored-up, but I remember everything clearly." Lily smiled, blushing slightly due to Roxanne's teasing smirk, "So, what do you think of Sirius?"

"He's an airhead, but good fun." Roxanne mentioned casually, pouring herself a glass of orange juice and gathering scrambled eggs onto her china plate, "But let's not focus on him. I am _much_ more interested in James Potter."

"And why is that?" Lily bit back defensively, scrunching up her nose in displeasure.

"He seems more than a little fond of you, which I find highly…_ADORABLE!_" Roxanne squawked excitably, her fatigue disappearing as she grinned madly, garnering glares from the surrounding tables, "He's _so_ charming, and the way he _looks_ at you! That man is downright _smitten_ with you!"

"_Would you keep it down?_" Lily demanded, though she was unable to hide her giddy smile, "You're exaggerating. It's madness to think he could see anything in a poor school-girl like me."

"Why are you in denial about this? I bet he'll kiss you the next time you meet up." Roxanne announced matter-of-factly, sounding triumphant.

"How do you know there will even _be _a next time? I'm probably just some toy he'll eventually get bored with." Lily sighed, refraining from telling Roxanne they had _already_ kissed.

"Fine, don't get your hopes up, but time will tell. If he tries to contact you by the end of the month, I'll be convinced he's besotted with you." Roxanne stated, nodding confidently.

Lily rolled her eyes, embarrassed, but quickly straightening in her chair as Sister Cecilia scuttled toward her, looking frantic and wet with sweat.

"Ms. Evans, if you'll please follow me." Sister Cecilia insisted with batted breath, "It'll only take a moment out of your breakfast time."

Lily and Roxanne exchanged quizzical looks before Lily followed the mousy nun into the hall outside of the dining room. Lily was expecting to be led into Sister Agatha's office for another arbitrary lashing, but instead was brought to the door, where a dark figure lurked, waiting for her. Lily's heartbeat quickened.

"Highly unusual for a student to be let…but he _is_ a…anyway, you have twenty minutes before classes start, Ms. Evans." Sister Cecilia reminded her, bidding adieu and prancing back into the dining room.

"Come out here for a minute."

Lily followed James outside, closing the school door behind her. Making sure nobody was watching them, James removed a copy of the tabloid magazine, _The Chatter_, from his pocket and pressed it to her chest.

"_What are you doing?_" Lily whispered curiously, noting the upset etched into James' handsome features, "I can't be caught seeing you, I—"

"Hence my secretiveness." James smirked at the pretty girl, despite feeling angry about the earlier encounter with his mother, "Look at the front page."

Lily frowned and scanned the front of the posh magazine James had given her; her green eyes widening when she read the headline and saw the big, bold pictures. She felt her knees begin to weaken and fear collect in her throat at the sight of them.

"Oh, _god_! James, when the nuns see this—" Lily whimpered, her eyes obscured with dread.

James lightly grazed her hand with his, brown eyes looking intensely into emerald ones.

"The magazine hasn't identified you or Roxanne, and the pictures are blurry," James pacified, "but listen, I can't stay long. Sirius and I have damage control plans for this morning."

"_What a mess_! I'm sorry if…this makes you look bad." Lily bit the top of her lip, a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach as she faced the handsome lord, slightly ashamed.

"I'm not worried about my _image_, Lily! Just about you getting beaten by that _sodding_ nun again." James whispered seriously, taking Lily's hand and kissing the top of it, making her flush, "Those pictures…"

"_Yes_?" Lily inquired weakly, embarrassment welling inside of her at the very thought of the compromising positions she and James were in.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear as he slinked his hands around her waist, "I'd like to recreate those on another occasion, if you'd be so kind as to oblige."

Shivers traveled up Lily's back, and James' breath tickled her ear.

"_My_, _my_, Lord Potter! I don't believe your intentions are _quite_ appropriate." Lily whispered back, her body excitable due to his close proximately.

"I don't mean to offend, my lady." James grinned, reluctantly pulling away from her and bowing graciously.

"You are a mixture of gentleman and scoundrel, my Lord." Lily teased, mocking innocence as she gave a coy little smile.

"And you, my dear, are a mixture of angel and temptress." James replied in playful retort, his eyes shining mischievously as a grand idea sprouted, "Which do you prefer? Gentleman or scoundrel?"

"That's like asking me to choose between strawberries and chocolate! One cannot function properly without the other." Lily softly chuckled at her own comparison, her cheeks rosy.

"Strawberries and chocolate? Perhaps I am not the only one with improper thoughts." James teased, licking his lips as if to tantalize Lily into kissing him.

"You scoundrel!" Lily mocked outrage, humorously hitting his muscular shoulder.

James swiftly caught her hand and gently pulled her to his chest, trapping her around the waist.

"It's difficult for a scoundrel not to give into an angelic temptress, for she possesses two qualities he finds intoxicating." James explained seductively, trying his best to refrain from kissing her in case a nun suddenly burst through the door.

"What are those?" Lily whispered, breathless.

"_OI_! POTTER! LET'S GET A MOVE ON!" Sirius Black shouted from the end of the driveway, unaware he was with Lily.

Lily giggled at James' annoyed reaction.

"That bugger has got the _worst_ timing." James cursed under his breath, gently easing away from Lily, who seemed to be regaining her composure, "Listen, do you know where the apple orchard is from here?"

"The one behind the school, bordering the small forest?" Lily asked intriguingly, hugging her arms to her chest modestly.

"Yes. Do you think you could get there after dinner?" James asked urgently, his boyish eyes pleading.

"How could I possibly-?" Lily began sceptically, scrunching her nose in thought, "Unless…"

"I've got to go. I'll see you, _Ms. Evans_, before the sun sets." James said hastily, kissing Lily on the cheek and offering a lop-sided grin before scampering off down the driveway to meet up with Sirius.

Lily felt dazed as she re-entered the school just as the bell went off, signalling the beginning of class. Lily swiftly slipped into her Geometry classroom and took a seat beside Roxanne, who was ready to explode with questions.

"Well?"

Lily moved her desk closer to Roxanne, hoping no one would overhear her conversation.

"It was James."

"I'm sorry, I was wrong. He's not smitten with you; he's bloody _love-struck_!" Roxanne hissed gleefully, her eyes the size of teacup saucers, "What does he want now? Your hand in marriage?"

"Oh, aren't you smart?" Lily glared pointedly, though she was not upset, "You've always wanted fame, right? Now you've got it."

Lily smacked the _Chatter _down on Roxanne's desk and waited for the sassy brunette's reaction.

"_Jiminy Cricket!_ This is not good!" Roxanne snapped fearfully, her nose practically touching the front page, "What if someone sees this-?"

"Sister Loretta? Are we allowed to read magazines in class?" Acantha inquired sweetly, raising her hand whilst stealthily shooting Roxanne and Lily (who looked like a pair of deer caught in headlights) vicious little smirks.

"No, my child. What has spurred your inquiry?" the nun returned coolly, bothered by the useless question.

"It's just, Lily and Roxanne are reading one _right now_, and I wondered how they earned such a privilege." Acantha smiled politely, her nose blue and purple from her spat with Lily the previous day.

The nun immediately sped toward Lily, who could not find a sufficient hiding place for the tabloid in time. Sister Loretta ripped the magazine from her hand and scanned the title.

"What is this filth? Is this an unholy _sex_ magazine?" the nun bumbled, the girls around the class giggling at the very word.

"It's not a _sex_ magazine, it's a gossip magazine!" Roxanne defended, her ears turning pink.

"You girls should be _ashamed _of yourselves! I must report this to Sister Agatha at _once_!" the nun exclaimed, ignoring Roxanne and heading toward the door.

Lily felt her blood turn hot. Sister Agatha would recognize them in the pictures; there was no doubt in her mind. Lily wouldn't be able to see James anymore, and both she and Roxanne would be beaten to a pulp.

Lily glared hard at the magazine, tears welling up in her eyes. Just as the nun was about to exit the classroom, the tabloid burst into flames, causing the nun to emit a high-pitched scream and to drop the paper product, which was soon reduced to ashes.

The students in the classroom gasped due to the random combustion, many standing and leaning over their desks to peer at the pile of ashes in wonder.

"Witchcraft! Heresy! Blasphemes!" the nun screamed shrilly, her eyes appalled at the spectacle before her, "Detention for the both of you! You'll be scrubbing dishes in the kitchen until curfew tonight!"

"How is this _our_ fault?" Roxanne stood up in her seat, positively livid, "Do I look like a _sodding_ witch to you? You can't give us detention on grounds of _witchcraft_! That's absurd!"

"I am giving you detention for possessing a _smutty_ magazine! Now, sit down!" Sister Loretta demanded, visibly shaken as she too collapsed into a chair.

"Did dear James tell you that magazine was also a _bloody_ _fire bomb_?" Roxanne snapped, wrinkles appearing on her forehead; Lily looked back at her innocently, "I've never gotten a detention before."

"Which is surprising, considering you're my best friend and I'm issued one every week." Lily grinned uneasily, relieved and stunned the magazine had gone up in flames.

_Did __**I**__ do that?_

Sister Loretta eventually continued her lesson, avoiding eye contact with Lily and Roxanne. It seemed she was convinced they were secretly Satanists on an unholy rampage; after all, they were reading _sex_ magazines.

"Roxanne?"

"What do you want, you devil?"

"Can you cover for me tonight…?"

"_What?_" Roxanne hissed, narrowing her eyes distrustfully, "_Where_ are you planning on going?"

"I-I-I…James and I are meeting in the apple orchard down the street tonight after dinner…" Lily whispered, wincing at Roxanne's glower.

"So you'll be _making out_ in an apple orchard while I'm serving detention?" Roxanne muttered bitterly, her brow furrowed in humorous anger.

"…We won't be making out!" Lily protested, getting swatted in the back of the head with a long ruler by Sister Loretta for talking, "_Ouch!_ What an old crab she is!"

"You owe me one, Lily Evans." Roxanne grumbled, beginning to copy down the notes on the board.

After supper, Lily immediately dashed to the kitchen (hoping the chefs would be gone) and out the back door of the school, eager to cross the school's wide lawns into the small forest that bordered the apple orchard. The sky was indecisive, looking ready to spill its guts onto the landscape at one moment, and then clearing to reveal a burning orange horizon at another.

The apple orchard consisted of rows and rows of green trees, mathematically spaced between each other to leave room for growth. Being early spring, they budded with flowers as opposed to red or green apples. The ground was muddy from spurts of rain, creating an earthly smell—Lily regretted not wearing boots.

_This is disgusting! – _Lily thought to herself, peeling off her shoes and knee-high socks, deciding it more logical to wade about in bare feet. Lily rolled her school kilt higher (but not scandalously so) and tied her hair back in a ponytail before making her way to the middle of the orchard.

"Well aren't you a sight to behold?" Lily heard James Potter shout from the center of the field, his masculine voice resounding amongst the trees.

Her heart began to palpitate faster.

"Can't say the same for you!" Lily called out uneasily, seeing no one but knowing she was being watched, "Where are you?"

Lily let out a surprised scream as James Potter jumped down from the apple tree he was sitting in and landed in front of her, white shirt buttoned down and pants rolled up past the knees. Lily lost her balance, the shock sending her backwards, but James caught her wrists and steadied her.

"Scare the living daylights out of me, why don't you!" Lily huffed, holding onto James' arms for balance, "You picked an… _odd_ place for a rendezvous."

"I didn't know it was going to be so muddy." James smiled, revealing perfect white teeth, "I'm ashamed to say I didn't think you'd brave the muck to see me. Most ladies wouldn't dare step out in the rain, never mind walk knee-deep in mud."

"We both know I'm hardly a lady." Lily chuckled, detesting the feeling of mud between her toes, "But it _is_ rather disgusting. I'm not properly dressed."

"I like your outfit." James grinned roguishly, his eyes running up and down her milky-white legs, "Those school-girl kilts are the epitome of _sex_, if you don't mind me saying."

"You, _sir_, are too brash!" Lily folded her arms resolutely; hint of a smile on her lips, "If I'd known you were here to _size me up_, perhaps I wouldn't have come!"

"Sorry." James cracked an apologetic smile, amused by Lily's fiery spirit, "You bring out the scoundrel in me more often than the gentlemen. It's been suppressed for a long time."

"Oh, so it's _my_ fault?" Lily put her arms on her hips, seemingly annoyed, then thought better of such a move and grabbed onto James again for balance, "_James_, I'm sinking in this mud!"

"Here." James heroically swept Lily off her feet, despite her protest, and grinned down at her scandalized expression, "Is that better?"

"Lord Potter, put me down!" Lily insisted, blushing as she fidgeting awkwardly in his arms.

"I thought I was being a gentleman?" James smirked, his chocolate eyes sparkling playfully.

"I am _not_ some rag doll you can pick up and put down whenever you feel like it!" Lily persevered, biting the bottom of her lip as she felt his hand grazing her bare legs.

"Yes, I am aware. You can't _kiss_ rag dolls." James teased seductively, pleased he was able to make Lily's cheeks pink, "Well actually, I guess you could, but that's questionable…"

"James Potter, _put me down_!" Lily persisted in embarrassment, feeling bare under his probing gaze.

"As you wish, _my_ lady." James gently lowered Lily back into the mud, teasing her lower back with his hands.

Lily's hands gracefully slid down his chest and grasped onto his upper arm, while her bare feet slipping back into the deep mud. James looked longingly down into Lily's face, his lips mere inches from hers, searching for permission to kiss her. Lily closed her eyes and lifted one of her feet out of the mud, tempting him forward. James closed his eyes, ready to graze her lips, when…

"_Hey!_" James opened his eyes in surprise, wiping mud from his cheek as Lily began to run in the opposite direction, her laughter contagiously compelling him after her, "YOU'RE IN TROUBLE NOW, LILY EVANS!"

As Lily traversed the muck and dirt, giggling, water from the heavens spattered her face and gave her the strangest feeling; that of freedom. Ever since she had met James, Lily had felt like an animal escaped from its cage—its prison. She was free to feel, to think, to have _fun_ when she was with him. Her build-up of emotion was overwhelming, and the thought of losing it…unbearable.

Lily's foot got caught in a particularly deep mud hole, causing her to trip and fall forward into the wet muck. She did not scream or cry for help; she merely relished the feeling of flight. There was mud on her elbows and knees, as well as some smeared on her left cheek.

"_Merlin_, Lily! Are you ok?" James asked seriously, dropping down into the mud beside her without a second thought and softly lifting her torso out of the grim, his hands supporting her back.

_There it is again…Merlin?_

"I'm ok." Lily breathed, cracking a small smile as she turned to James, whose white shirt was stained with wet dirt and eyes mirrored worry, "You didn't have to launch yourself into the mud with me, silly."

"I can't let you have all the fun." James returned mischievously, hiding his fascination with her reaction and gently wiping his muddy thumb on her clean cheek, making her laugh, "Now we're even, clumsy."

"I still think I have an advantage over you." Lily grinned, her red hair caked with mud as she pushed herself into an upright sitting position.

"Yes… you've found my weakness." James divulged in almost a whisper, intensely staring back at the pretty girl.

"Muddy, kilt-wearing girls?" Lily smiled, snorting at her own joke.

"Yes, but specifically _you_." James laughed, this time being the one to blush—this made Lily beam sheepishly, "I've never known a girl quite like you."

"I hope that's a compliment." Lily whispered shyly, her emerald orbs sparkling.

In her eyes, James could see an untouched innocence.

"One of many, if you'll allow." James responded seriously, a burning passion in his mysterious eyes, sharply contrasting Lily's.

Rain began trickling from the sky, lightly wetting Lily's red hair and causing the ground to become even muddier. James heaved a sigh, realizing he and Lily couldn't stay out much longer without becoming drenched, dirty, and sick.

"We better find shelter before you catch a cold." James murmured, squinting down through the rain at Lily and finding her right hand buried in the mud.

James wobbled to his feet and pulled Lily to hers, taking in her petit, filthy frame.

"Don't worry about me, I'm not cold." Lily waved off nonchalantly, though her legs felt like melting icicles.

"You're a terrible liar." James smiled handsomely, water droplets dripping off strands of his hair and onto his glasses, "Your hands are freezing and your legs are shaking."

"Maybe I should go back to school, there's no where else we can go in this state and—" Lily began, though she didn't want to part with James.

"Have a little faith, _Ms. Evans_!" James shook his head, mocking despair, "I've got just the place for us to clean up and get fresh clothes."

"I keep forgetting you're a Potter…do you own this orchard?" Lily inquired suddenly, her voice becoming meek as she let James lead her through the rows of trees.

James paused, drinking in her last sentence and regretting the answer.

"Yes, my family owns it. Sirius and I often played in this orchard when we were young. There's a shack on the northern side where I'm taking you." James explained, halting to consider circumstances, "Are you alright with us going to the shack, Lily? I don't want you to think—"

"I haven't known you for long, but I trust you, James." Lily offered him a peaceful smile, urging him on with her eyes.

"I'm glad." James whispered, tenderly squeezing Lily's hand, "It's not much further, we'll be out of the rain soon."

Just as James had claimed, a wooden shack sat nestled between the apple orchard and the forest on the northern side, near the opening in the forest Lily had exited from. James gently eased the door open and gestured Lily inside, closing the door when he too had entered.

"It's not much, but it'll do for now." James said, letting go of Lily's hand and peeling off his brown shirt, which had once been white.

The shack consisted of one room, barely the size of James' bedroom at the manor, and a closet. There was a fireplace on the far wall, a pile of wood stocked beside it, with a soft carpet placed near the hearth. The shack had four windows—all battered with rain—and near the door was a table and two chairs.

"What do you and Sirius do in here?" Lily asked James, who was rummaging around in the closet, "There doesn't seem to be much one can do in here for entertainment."

"We talk or eat, nothing special," James replied, closing the closet door and offering Lily a thin blanket, "Usually we came here to escape my mother."

"Thank you." Lily looked at James quizzically, letting him wrap the blanket around her shoulders, "Why would you want to escape your mother?"

"Mother and I have never gotten along." James explained, not eager to breech the subject, "Let's see if I can start a fire."

James fumbled with the matches, curious as to how they worked, but wasn't able to strike up a flame. Lily watched him curiously, a smirk curving at the edge of her mouth.

"Need some help with that?" Lily teased, raising an eyebrow.

"No…I think perhaps a breeze is coming in from the door. Could you see if it's been shut properly?" James asked innocently, using his wand to ignite the logs as soon as Lily turned her back.

_How did he do that?_

"There, that's a bit more comfortable," James stated confidently, inwardly smiling due to Lily's puzzled look, "Now my lady won't freeze to death."

"Is my lord concerned?" Lily flirted, her mouth forming into a thin smile as James joined her on the floor by the fire.

"No, not particularly." James countered, laughing as Lily poked his side, mocking outrage.

Lily watched him nonchalantly lay flat on his back, his chiselled jaw perpendicular to the ceiling. The flickering fire reflected on his glasses as he closed his eyes and basked in the warmth. Darkness began blackening the windows, the pitter-patter of raindrops still making them vibrate like a song.

"Sometimes I forget you're nobility." Lily whispered, James' eyes opening as she delicately brushed a strand of his messy hair out of his face, "It's as if you're like everyone else."

"I _am_ like everyone else." James sat up abruptly, facing Lily, "I don't want to be nobility in your eyes. I'm not Lord Potter, I'm just _James_."

"Just James..." Lily whispered, faintly smiling as her eyes caught the fire light.

Lily's smile slid off her face as she looked away from James and into the fire. Was it wrong of her to be consorting with nobility? James could do so much better—a fine woman like Ms. Collins was the type of lady he would end up married to, living in his manor with twelve children. Was it silly of her to expect anything more from James? Lily was frustrated with herself for even imagining a future. He was a Lord, she was a nobody.

Lily vowed to live in the moment, though she was plagued with the realization her relationship with James would soon come to an end and he would go on living a happy, rich life while she remained penniless and on the streets.

"What's wrong?" James prodded, concerned when he noticed Lily's expression darken, "Did I say something?"

"No…what did your mother and father say when they saw our pictures in that magazine?" Lily asked suddenly, her emerald eyes betraying distress.

"My father is never home, I doubt he even knows of the pictures." James said, raising an eyebrow questioningly, "My mother, she…doesn't know of them either."

"What about the rest of your social circle? Aren't you afraid of their reaction to…well, _me_?" Lily continued, looking ashamed.

"You mean _us_." James corrected firmly, his face becoming serious.

"What do you mean, _us_?" Lily gulped, feeling her face flush as James' expression contorted in angry confusion.

"You _must_ know I have feelings for you?" James demanded sceptically, squinting his eyes unbelievingly, "I don't recall formally asking you if I could court you, but I still thought there was an _us_."

"I just thought that…why would you want someone like _me_? I-"

Passion coursing through his body, James suddenly captured her lips with his, the force of the impact causing her to yelp and lay on her back, James on top of her. Instinctively, Lily closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. James enveloped her body, one hand on the small of her back and the other near her neck. Lily pleasurably gasped as James' lips trailed down her neck and down her left shoulder, where he had gently pulled the fabric away. Lily felt her heart beat sporadically and her lips tingle as James' lips crushed against hers again, pressing hard then gently caressing.

James could barely register what he was doing as he slowly unbuttoned the top of Lily's blouse, his lips kissing her neck and slowly making their way down toward her ample cleavage.

_SLOW DOWN YOU PRAT! SLOW DOWN!_

…_BUT SHE'S LETTING ME!_

_SHE'S NAIVE! YOU'LL RUIN EVERYTHING!_

James, letting his body get the best of him, stopped unbuttoning Lily's shirt and instead ran his hands up and down her smooth legs, their lips entangled again. James' hand inched near the hem of her skirt, the other ready to cup her right breast.

_IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!! LEAVE HER ALONE!! SHE'S INNOCENT! NOT YET!_

James begrudgingly retracted his hands and pulled Lily up into a sitting position with him, their lips breaking apart but their bodies still pressed against one another's.

Lily opened her eyes and was met with James' hot blooded ones, her body aching for his touch. She had never felt so…_good_.

They both breathed heavily, James groaning in sexual frustration as he peeped Lily's prominent nipples through her white blouse.

"I-I-I," Lily stuttered, still basking in her euphoric experience.

"Do you still doubt that I want you?" James whispered, faintly grinning as he tried to compose his urges.

"_No_." Lily murmured back, her green eyes simmering naively.

"I'm sorry if I was too—" James began, inwardly kicking himself for being so overpowering.

"Don't apologize." Lily whispered in James' ear, shivers trailing up his spine.

They sat in silence for awhile, fire light softening their features. Lily gradually buttoned her blouse back up, to James' chagrin, and got to her feet, knowing curfew was fast approaching.

"I must leave, James. If the nuns find me out of bed I'll be in big trouble." Lily said softly, nearing the door with James following, "I…tonight was…"

"Yes, it was." James quietly smiled, feeling at peace with Lily near, "I'll be in France for a week…will you see me when I get back?"

"Must you even ask?" Lily smiled angelically, letting James take her hand.

"I'll take that as a yes," James smirked, loosening up, "but I fear I won't be able to wait a week."

"Who knows? Maybe you'll find a pretty French girl and stay a month." Lily teased, smiling.

"I think I'll be too distracted thinking about a certain redhead." James divulged, arching his neck and kissing the skin behind her ear.

Lily blushed as he did this, but relished in the feeling.

"I must go!" Lily giggled, teasingly pushing James off her neck.

"Spoil sport." James pouted, breaking into a widespread grin, "I'll walk you back to school."

"No, I think I'd rather go alone, if you don't mind." Lily asked, wanting some time to think before she returned.

"Alright, but you'll do one thing for me before you go?" James asked in polite resolve.

"Yes?"

"Don't doubt my feelings for you." James spoke gently, his chocolate eyes betraying his adoration for the girl, "I want you and no one else, no matter your station."

Lily nodded, her eyes becoming moist at the thought of such a man wanting her as she left the small cabin and disappeared into the darkness. James felt his heart clench painfully at the thought of never seeing her again.

Little did he know how close he'd come to just that.

* * *

**»-(¯v´¯)-»AUTHOR'S NOTES»-(¯v´¯)-»**

Thank you to all those who rewarded me with their reviews! : ) Please continue Reading & Reviewing!

-pratty prongs princesse


	8. Chapter 8

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 8- Vertigo

It had been abrupt; ill-conceived…James questioned whether it had really occurred.

_June 2, 1940_

Ten wizards and two witches were gathered around a wobbly table when James Potter entered the musty wine cellar. A crinkled map was spread over the surface like a tablecloth, and pins, blinking like buoys cast off into the ocean, marked places on the washed-out parchment. Quietly, James took a seat and acknowledged his fellow comrades.

"Is Fletcher still keeping watch, Potter?" Alastor Moody barked gruffly when he entered, treating him no differently from the other witches and wizards present, despite his prestigious title.

"Dung's still on watch." James nodded seriously, taking a seat beside Benjy Fenwick, "Although, I still don't know why you'd trust _him_ with our lives."

"We need all the help we can get for this operation, _Potter_. Beggars can't be choosers." Moody growled, annoyed that the conversation previous to James' intrusion had been interrupted, "He'll due."

"I agree with Lord Potter. Mundungus Fletcher is a crook that shouldn't be trusted." Arthur Weasley agreed at once, glad to voice his opinion on the matter, "He's wretched. Probably sell his loyalty to the highest bidder."

"We're not here to talk about Fletcher, _Weasley_."

"Why _are_ we here, Moody? You've already given us our assignments." Dorcas Meadows cut in, hoping to diffuse the spat, "And why hold the meeting in Paris?"

"If you'd all buck up and listen, maybe I'd tell you." Moody snapped, furrowing his bushy brows and frowning, "I've just received news that Dumbledore and Fudge have spoken to Churchill."

The room immediately went silent, everyone wondering what news Churchill had passed onto Dumbledore. It was evident that the situation was worsening with each day, Denmark falling and the Germans closing in on France.

"From what was disclosed to me, Dumbledore believes that Hitler and Voldermort are not conspiring together as we previously assumed. We have no reason to believe Hitler is under the Imperius Curse, either. Voldermort is merely using this war as a means of starting his own, capitalizing on the fear already gripping the country." Moody began, his chest puffing out as the story began to unravel.

"I don't know whether to regard that as good news or bad news." Kingsley Shacklebolt muttered, voicing the confusion of the group, "Now instead of a magical maniac controlling a dictator, we have a magical maniac and a _muggle_ maniac."

"Why don't we just apparate into Hitler's bedroom and _end_ this war, then?" Caradoc Dearborn burst out angrily, clenching his fists, "We'll get rid of Hitler and then take care of He-who-must-not-be-named!"

"Churchill has asked the wizarding community to stay out of the war between England and Germany and stick to fighting Voldermort." Moody interjected, folding his arms and looking severe, "We won't be associating ourselves with this Muggle war as originally planned."

"But we could be of so much help!" Caradoc Dearborn continued to protest, obviously wanting to see action.

"Our world would no longer remain a secret if we did, Dearborn. Churchill is an honourable man; he wants to follow the basic rules of warfare, and that means _no_ magic."

"I think our involvement in this war would make it a hell of a lot bloodier." James spoke up, his intense expression shifting from the map to Moody, "If English wizards were to participate, wizards all over the world would; just think of the consequences."

"Perhaps. If English wizards were to join in, it would probably just _piss off_ other wizards." agreed Sturgis Podmore, "And that could lead to more support for He-who-must-not-be-named."

"Podmore, watch your language. There are ladies in the room." Kingsley Shacklebolt ordered abruptly before agreeing with his previous statement.

"So? They aren't from high society like _Potter_ here." Sturgis argued arrogantly, disdain lingering in his voice as he turned to James.

Sturgis Podmore had disliked James since their first meeting almost a year ago, partially due to his resentment of nobility. Podmore was twenty-one, two years older than James, with light blonde hair and blue eyes. Strong, handsome, and sharp, Podmore's only weakness was his lack of wisdom.

"If you've got a problem with me, _Podmore_, we can take this outside." James glared, his royal gaze unwavering as he regarded the light-haired wizard.

"Oh, yeah? Are you going to hire someone to duel for you, your _highness_?" Podmore returned cheekily, a smile causing the corners of his mouth to upturn.

"Duel? I thought we'd box. Then again, you probably aren't familiar with the Queensbury rules. Far too refined for a _street_ bloke like you." James smirked, watching Sturgis' face turn a blotchy red.

"_Would you two stop?_ Kingsley, we aren't at a dinner party. I'm sure Marlene and I can handle Podmore's mouth." Dorcas scoffed, folding her arms stubbornly, "No need to treat us differently."

"Merely encouraging respect." Kingsley returned, frowning, "You were saying, Moody?"

"Yes. From now on the Order will be convening in Paris to discuss matters. We haven't found a secure location for headquarters, though. There are too many spies in London; it is much safer for us here." Moody said, narrowing his eyes at Podmore, who looked ready to explode with questions and opinions.

"What if Paris falls to the Germans? What are we to do then? Where should we meet?" Marlene McKinnon inquired, her soft voice barely audible.

"It will make no difference. German muggles are no more a threat to us than French muggles. We'll still meet here, but if it should become too dangerous, we'll switch locations. Now, for your _new_ assignments."

Moody began conveying jobs to the witches and wizards in the room, many of the job mandates being recruitment of new members. Three imperative assignments were issued: Dorcas was to be stationed in Denmark as England's newest magical informant, Kingsley was to pretend to be a Muggle and work as Churchill's bodyguard, collecting information from the English government, and James was to spy on certain high-society wizarding families, like the Malfoys. Podmore, who had been assigned with recruiting, enviously glared when James received his assignment. Little did Podmore know, James would've swapped jobs with him in a heartbeat; he abhorred attending parties, the perfect venues for spying.

"We meet again in a week. Have any information collected ready by then." Moody concluded, shuffling some papers together and instructing Dorcas to roll up the map, "Any issues or prevalent information that come up before then are to be presented to Dumbledore at Hog-"

Moody stopped and shifted his wrinkled gaze to Marlene McKinnon. She returned his questioning glare with ignorance.

"What's wrong, Alastor?"

"What's that noise coming from your bag?" Moody demanded, his eyes darting around the room furiously, then focusing on her purse.

"I hear a whistling noise, too." Kingsley Shacklebolt agreed, turning towards Marlene.

Everyone's attention turned to Marlene. She shrugged and began rummaging around in her purse. Pulling out a spinning, glowing top, she deposited it onto the table and drew in a sharp breath.

"It's my…_Merlin_."

"Sneakoscope!"

"Wands at the ready!" Moody ordered loudly just as the door to the wine cellar was blown off its hinges and burst into snaking flames.

Hoards of figures wearing thick black cloaks and skeletal-looking masks flooded into the wine cellar, emerging from behind the cloud of dirty smoke the fire was creating. Bottles began to fall off their shelves and shatter, fuelling the already unstoppable fire.

James Potter scrambled to find his bearings, but was taken by surprise and thrown against the stone wall adjacent to him by a particularly nasty _Expelliarmus _spell. Some Order members immediately apparated, their eyes burning because of the smoke, while others remained behind to fight.

As James struggled to regain consciousness he heard a male scream and sensed a flash of green behind his eyelids.

_Wake up! Wake up!_

James lay in a heap on the ground, the wind knocked out of him and his vision blurred. Pressure was building in his chest and he struggled to breathe as his splintered ribs pushed on his lungs. He squinted through the flames and saw a horrifying sight.

Benjy Fenwick was dead…bits of his mutilated body scattered about the room. His head, the only recognizable part of him, was aflame. James felt ready to gag, the contents of his stomach threatening to resurface, when he realized a dark figure stood before him, her mouth twisted in a maniacal grin.

"Who would've thought I'd have the _honour_ of killing James Potter?" Bellatrix Lestrange sneered, her voice sharp, yet soft like a snake's hiss, "The Dark Lord will be pleased with me!"

James' vision blurred as blood gathering in tiny puddles at the corners of his eyes. He wanted to fight, wanted to speak, but he hadn't the strength to lift his wand.

_I don't want it to end like this! Get up!_

Bellatrix did not fear retaliation, the Lord crumpled up in a fetal position, blood pouring from a hefty gash on his head. He was too injured to put up a fight. Pity, in her opinion.

She blew James a kiss, her smile widening as the tip of her wand began to glitter green.

* * *

_June 23, 1940_

It was close to midnight. Lily Evans lay nestled in her bed, her bright, bottle-green eyes awake and alert. She couldn't sleep; not with the fresh lacerations on her hand oozing blood. Today she'd gotten strapped for having "bad posture" while waiting in line to enter a class, and yesterday she was strapped for having an "untidy, brutish appearance".

Sister Agatha was hell-bent on punishing Lily for being caught out of school after dinner three weeks ago. Lily had slipped back into the kitchen, absolutely gleeful due to her previous experience with James, only to find Sister Agatha awaiting her return. Lily was marched straight to Agatha's office and strapped. The bruises didn't hurt as much as having to witness Roxanne receive the same punishment for helping her.

Now, Sister Agatha used any implausible excuse to strap Lily, wanting her to pay everyday for her blaspheme-like behaviour and blatant disregard for the rules.

Lily didn't care about her hands or the hellish bitch that pretended to be a nun. At the moment, she didn't care about anything. She'd been thrust into another one of her volatile, self-destructive mindsets.

_Why does my life have to be like this? What did I do to deserve being treated like __**vermin?**_

Anger and sadness swelled inside of Lily, the mixture and intensity of such emotions making her feel ready to implode. Hot tears threatened to pour down Lily's face, but she held them back, not wanting to expose her vulnerability to even the attic spiders.

_Why do I have no one in my life that loves me? _

Just then, as if her emotion had magically converted into energy, the glass pane in the window above Lily's bed began to crack, seemingly put under a great deal of pressure, and exploded into a million small shards. Lily sat bolt upright, her cheeks tear-stained and her red hair askew, and surveyed the glittering pieces of glass on the attic floor. Lily looked out the window, hoping to spot the perpetrator that had broken the glass, but saw no one.

"Someone must've thrown a stone..." Lily mumbled, wiping her eyes and carefully stepping around the glass, looking for a rock or heavy object that could've been pitched into the attic.

Lily got down onto her hands and knees and looked for the destructive object, light from the moon aiding her vision, but found nothing. The sporadic jolt of motion momentarily preoccupied Lily's troubled mind, and just as she began to drift back into her hopeless respite, another strange occurrence jogged her sanity.

Lily gasped, tripping over her trunk in surprise as an owl with ruffled feathers and a well-behaved stare appeared in her window, clutching betwixt its talons a proper-looking envelope. The owl's peculiar yellow eyes were trained on Lily.

"What the _devils_ going on?" Lily whimpered, unsure of how to get the bird out of her room, "Out, out! _Shoo_!"

The owl remained unmoving, looking slightly perturbed by the redhead's awkward actions. It stuck out its leg in annoyance, presenting the letter to Lily.

_That's it, I've gone loony._

"What's that... a letter?" Lily spoke to the owl, thinking herself mad for doing so; "You want me to have that letter?"

The owl nodded its head.

"_Cripes!_" Lily recoiled, realizing the owl had understood her, "I- _this is crazy!_ I'm not taking that, that _letter_! You'll bite me! Owls are _wild_ animals!"

The brown-speckled owl narrowed its eyes at the girl and made a persistent hooting noise, its rigid leg still stuck out at an awkward angle.

"_Alright, alright_! Don't make a racket!" Lily hushed the animal, cautiously stepping towards it and tentatively reaching for the letter.

Once Lily had collected the starch letter, the owl turned around and fluttered back into the sky, assimilating with its inky canvass. Lily watched it disappear and trembled as the night air nipped at her bare arms. _What's going on?_

Almost frightened to read the contents of the letter, Lily curled up on her bed and wrapped a tattered blanket around her shoulders. Ripping open the envelope, Lily pulled out a letter, written in green ink, and began to read:

_Dear Ms. Evans,_

_It has been brought to the attention of The Improper Use of Magic Office that you have performed multiple spells and charms (a boiling charm and assortments of destructive spells) in a predominantly Muggle school, and though you are legally able to perform magic outside of school once you are seventeen, we feel you are endangering magical secrecy by blatantly performing magic in the presence of muggles. Though no charges will be laid, the Improper Use of Magic Office implores you to take more care. If this recklessness continues, the Ministry will revise their decision._

_On another note, Ms. Evans, I am startled to find you have absolutely no records or magical registration at the Ministry of Magic. As it is evident you are a witch and part of the magical community (though you attend a Muggle school), it is imperative that you register with us. I have personally delved into your Muggle records (which I accessed from the British government) and realize you haven't any parents (my condolences); therefore, if you do not register with the Ministry within two weeks, I shall send a Ministry representative to your place of residence to set up your magical records and establish you in the wizarding community._

_Until then, please control your temper._

_Tiberius Ogden,  
Improper Use of Magic Office_

Lily's mouth hung open in stupefaction, barely hanging on its hinges. Rereading the letter only worsened Lily's confusion. Lily looked out the window again, hoping to spot the prankster that was tormenting her with broken windows and rubbish letters, but saw no one.

Shattered windows.

Owls delivering letters.

Ministry of..._Magic_?

"_As it is evident you are a witch." _Bullocks! Lily didn't know what was going on, but resolutely decided she wasn't going to fall for some stupid prank and look like a fool. It certainly wasn't Agatha's doing, and Roxanne wouldn't dare, knowing the mood Lily was in, which left _Acantha_. Lily knew the Greek beauty hated her guts and would relish in humiliating her; it was logical to assume she was the one who sent the idiotic letter.

"_Ha, ha_!" Lily laughed sarcastically, bitterly shredding the letter into bits and throwing them out the window, "If Acantha thinks I'm believing this crap for _one_ second, she can think again!"

Lily quickly pinned a mouth-eaten sheet over the open window and plunked her head on a pillow, deciding to clean up the glass in the morning. Lily glared into a shadowed corner of the room, devising a plan to get back at the Grecian slut as her lids gradually became heavy.

* * *

"Wake up, mate. You're home."

James Potter stirred, hearing a familiar voice. He struggled to open his eyes, but even the slightest motion caused pain to cradle in his chest. James painfully groaned, sweaty brown hair plastered to his face as he arched his back.

"You gave me quite the scare, mate." Sirius divulged, restlessly watching James grapple for comfort, "I don't think you know how lucky you are…"

"What's h-h-happened?" James managed, his head spinning as he maneuvered into a sitting position, "Is Arthur…?"

"Don't over exert yourself." Sirius soothed, his voice uncharacteristically caring and concerned, "Arthur is excellent. Running around with those twin boys of his in St. Mungo's while you were still in your coma. Managed to break a couple ribs, didn't you?"

"No kidding." James groaned, "How long have you been sitting there watching me, _creep_?"

"Hours. You look _so_ adorable when you sleep." Sirius grinned, rolling his eyes at James' disgusted scoff, "You've been unconscious for almost three weeks now. You were released from St. Mungo's yesterday when you're vitals returned to normal. I've been bored for weeks now, _prick_."

"Well, I appreciate you playing nurse, but I'm afraid I'd rather have one in a short skirt." James cracked half-heartedly, smiling despite the pain.

"I bet I'd look fabulous in a short skirt." Sirius pouted, crossing his arms comically, "This _nurse_ you fantasize about, wouldn't be a certain _redhead_, would it?"

James blushed awkwardly, something he only did in the presence of his true friends, and looked out toward the window.

"Have you seen Lily these past weeks? I hope she's ok." James turned to Sirius, weeks feeling like one night, "Are you sure it's been _three_ weeks?"

"No, I'm lying." Sirius rolled his eyes, scoffing, "I've been too preoccupied trying to find a way of playing cards with a man in a coma to think of Lily, mate."

"What would you do without me?" James grinned, chucking a pillow at Sirius and almost knocking him off his chair.

"_Ow!_ I'd have to hang out with Remus all the time, and all he does is read. So I'd watch Remus read." Sirius replied, suddenly turning serious, "That reminds me. You need to tell me what happened that night in the wine cellar."

_She blew James a kiss, her smile widening as the tip of her wand began to glitter green._

"If it wasn't for Arthur…" James began, staring off into the distance as if reliving the scene, "and then _Benjy_…"

_His head, the only recognizable part of him…_

"Miraculously, he was the only one killed." Sirius whispered, trying to decipher the almost emotionless expression in James' eyes, "You weren't the only injured, though. Turns out Moody lost an eye."

"He must have been one of the Order members that stuck around." James whispered, looking detached at the thought of an eyeless Moody.

"You saw Benjy's… _state_, didn't you?" Sirius sensed James was having trouble internalizing the image, "Now that the war's started, we'll all be seeing things like that. What's wrong, mate?"

"It was _Bellatrix_." James snapped, shifting out of his stare and turning to Sirius, who looked as if he's been branded with hot iron, "She _killed_ Benjy. She almost killed me…"

"What_? Bella_?" Sirius muttered, his eyes alight with fury, "That black-haired _devil_? I had my suspicions she was working for Voldermort, but…_fuck_."

"I haven't told Dumbledore yet—I doubt it'll make any difference. Didn't Bellatrix disappear to Transylvania?" James asked, desperately trying to rid himself of the image of Benjy.

"That _bitch_ has been missing for awhile now. _Merlin_, this confirms why my family has been in such good spirits lately. The Blacks are always proud of racist _sickos_." Sirius mumbled bitterly, disgust evident on his face, "How lucky am I to be associated with such a _lovely_ bunch?"

"My family isn't exactly perfect either." James interjected, frowning, "Speaking of bitches, how did my mother react to my coma?"

"She was in hysterics at the hospital. Began screaming at a healer, demanding she immediately revive you. She kept going on about how you were the only male heir to the Potter dynasty, _blah blah blah_." Sirius rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

"Ah yes, my death would be _quite_ the tragedy. Who would carry on the Potter name?" James grit his teeth together, resentment for his mother deepening.

"Your father showed up, too." Sirius continued, folding his arms, "He seemed genuinely concerned. When it was confirmed you'd be fine he flew back to Egypt or wherever he came from."

The lonely maple—first rooted in the earth nearly a hundred years ago—scraped the sky outside of James' window, longing to touch the face of God. The morning blush smoothed over the edge of the horizon, transitioning from a burning orange to a glassy blue. The maple partially obscured the awakening sun, casting a romantic glow about the room, and James couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia.

"I can't expect someone of such _importance_ to compromise his career for his son, can I?" James whispered, suddenly throwing the sheets off his bed and propelling to his feet.

"Hold on, buddy! You shouldn't be up, you're still recovering!" Sirius jumped up and placed a hand on James' shoulder, attempting to guide him back down.

"I'm not staying cooped up in this miserable house." James returned, pushing Sirius' hand from his shoulder and thrusting open the doors to his wardrobe, "I need something, rather, _someone_ to distract me from this hell I'm living in."

"Hey! You still haven't given me details about your encounter with Bella!" Sirius protested, "And what am I? Chopped liver? I wait _three week_s for your consciousness and you ditch me the moment you wake?"

"You know I appreciate you being there for me." James said seriously, pulling a clean shirt over his head, "You're there when no one else is. I know I can depend on you. I just need to go and see Lily."

"_Lily_? What's that wench got on me? Aside from a lovely pair of-"

"Unless you want your jaw loosed, I'd stop." James threatened, grinning at Sirius' abashed expression, "When I'm with her I think of nothing else. My worries just seem to…I don't know, _dissipate_. Besides, she'll think I've abandoned her if I wait much longer to see her."

"This is the bloody thanks I get for nursing you back to health." Sirius muttered comically, folding his arms and preparing to apparate, "Go to your lady love; see if I care!"

"Pop back around dinner, I'll be ready to give you details then." James promised, offering Sirius an apologetic, patronizing smile, "I just need some distraction from this mess for awhile. I'm also worried about her."

"_Honestly_, you wake up from a coma, having almost _died_, and you're worried about Lily! Why don't I book the chapel and tip the priest already?" Sirius rolled his eyes, unable to stay mad at James.

"If it'd make you feel useful." James laughed, feeling slightly flustered at the thought of him and Lily marrying, "See you tonight."

"_Maybe_. I might have to distract myself with some of my own _lady friends_, so no promises." Sirius mocked, turning his back on James and preparing to apparate.

"Shut up, I know you'll be here." James laughed—Sirius mocked offense.

"I hate you… see you tonight…"

After Sirius' haughty exit, James attempted to tame his mop of black hair—to no avail—and decided upon walking to Lily's boarding school, eager to take in the fresh air. Once outside, James' ribs began to ache, the fresh skin on his chest protesting under the contortion; however, the pain quickly abated. Nerves nestled in the pit of James' belly.

_What am I so afraid of? _

It wasn't nerves. It was intuition.

* * *

Lily sat quietly in Arithmetic, staring blankly at the blackboard as girls scrawled down formulas and equations to solve. Her rouge-tresses shaped her face, limply draping down over her ears as opposed to being tied up. Roxanne sat beside her, vigorously finishing her homework, while Sister Agatha watched the class work from behind her desk, wearing a greedy, calculating smile. Lily avoided eye contact with her and kept silent, hoping not to accidentally goad the woman into further brutalizing her hands.

A ray of sun swirled in through one of the classroom windows, illuminating a patch of her fiery hair. It was a beautiful morning, but far from pathetic fallacy.

The letter Lily had received the previous night still remained transfixed in her mind. Acantha hadn't once smirked or coyly remarked since the letter, making Lily think perhaps she _hadn't_ sent it. Part of her wished the letter were real—almost like another world she could escape to. But such things just weren't fathomable.

Wonderful things didn't happen to her.

_James_. Lily could barely muster his name without crying. She hadn't seen him in over three weeks. He _was_ wonderful. Just the thought of someone caring for her...but she wasn't going to think about it. Lily knew eventually he was going to fade out of the picture—she was just an amusement to him. Lily secretly feared he'd eloped in France with some rich bombshell. What chance had she?

_Wait…do I even want a chance? He's nobility…I wouldn't want a life like that anyway…I think? He's not __**that**__ great! Bugger…I think too much._

"_Miss Evans_, I recommend you quit _daydreaming_ about rubbish and finish your homework." Sister Agatha snapped from across the room, smirking smugly as half the class began laughing at Lily's startled face.

It was obvious humiliating Lily gave Sister Agatha great satisfaction.

"_Don't!_" Roxanne hissed to Lily, watching her cheeks redden angrily.

"Really? I recommend you stop eating cookies and stick to vegetables so you'll look like a human as opposed to a _whale_." Lily Evans sweetly retorted, her eyes alit with fury as the class gasped at her disrespect.

Like a fraught fish, Lily took the bait Sister Agatha had thrust into the pond.

Calmly, as if ascending from confessional, Sister Agatha crossed the room and stood ominously before Lily's desk, her probing dark eyes trying to decipher Lily's challenging expression.

"Follow me, _now_." Sister Agatha breathed in a disciplinary tone, her stern demeanour remaining sturdy in front of the other students.

Roxanne dug her fingernails into the soft wood of her desk as she watched Lily ascend from her seat and follow the brutish headmistress into the hall. Panic threatening to escape from her throat, Roxanne buried her face into her hands, praying Lily would not get a worse thrashing than her last.

Lily had always been cheeky toward Sister Agatha, but never so brashly insulting. Roxanne cringed at the thought, knowing Lily would come back with a much more severe punishment.

Out in the hall, Sister Agatha and Lily halted in front of the ajar basement door, the nun's cool composure vanished and replaced with broiling rage. Roughly grabbed hold of the redhead's arm, Sister Agatha shoved her toward the door, inclining her to go into the basement.

"I have been most tolerant of your _brat_ ways, Ms. Evans, but it ends here. I'm going to teach you to respect your elders, do you hear?" the nun hissed menacingly, not wanting her fellow colleagues to become alarmed with her shouting and come out into the hall.

"How can I ever respect you when all you've even been towards me is _cruel_?" Lily replied, her expression suddenly growing serious, "Since my first day at this academy you have treated me like _dirt_. "Woman of God" my _ass_! It is _your_ actions that have driven me to _despise_ you!"

Sister Agatha was flabbergasted. She had never in her life been scolded by a seventeen-year-old for her actions. She was a nun, a servant of God; her actions were pure and chaste. How dare this _child _mock her vocation?

The only way Lily Evans was going to learn her lesson and embrace God was through punishment.

"I am God's faithful servant. You _will_ obey-"

"You are nothing but a _bitch_." Lily spat, years of insult, violence, and humiliation spilling out of her and hitting Agatha square in the forehead.

Without warning, Sister Agatha raised her monstrous hand and slapped Lily with unsuppressed force across the face. Lily, taken by surprise, lost her footing and fell backwards. Sister Agatha screamed in alarm as Lily limply tumbled down the stairs of the basement, crashing into a wooden shelf stoked with glass bottles.

James Potter stood in the front hallway of the school, frozen in shock.

* * *

**»-(¯v´¯)-»AUTHOR'S NOTES»-(¯v´¯)-»**

Thank you to all those who rewarded me with their reviews! : ) Please continue Reading & Reviewing!

-pratty prongs princesse


	9. Chapter 9

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 9- Godric's Hollow

"_STUPEFY_!" James roared furiously, the sparks emitted from his wand ricocheting off the walls in a devilish display of red.

Sister Agatha lay sprawled on the floor like da Vinci's _Vitruvian Man_, her eyes bugged out and her mouth an open portal. Her sharp shoes, the color of mud, pointed towards the crown-moulded ceiling.

Disregarding the consequences of such a hasty move, James locked all the doors in the hallway and atrium with the _Colloportus_ spell and bounded towards the stairs, his heart rambunctiously pounding in his chest.

"_Lily!_" James gasped, the sight of her mangled body twisted at the bottom of the stairs making him dizzy with panic, "Darling, please _look_ at me!"

Lily was unconscious, her eye lids firmly shut over her emerald orbs. Her ashen face was spattered with blood, fresh and sparkling like the facets of a ruby. The school basement was dark, dank, and utterly infested with dust, a grimy cloud of dirt lingering and swirling above the concrete floor due to the sudden agitation.

Even through the mess, James could make out the sharp piece of glass that had impaled Lily's right shoulder.

"O _god_," James breathed, his voice hoarse as he propped Lily's limp head against his shoulder in an attempt to awake her, "_**Reducio**_**!"**

The sharp piece of glass, belonging to a broken, abandoned window in the basement, immediately shrank in size, making it easy to extract from Lily's tender skin. James winced as blood poured out of her shoulder, coating his hands and upper arms.

"Episkey!" James whispered, the wound on her right shoulder and back healing and her collar bone, also broken, beginning to piece itself back together.

Sitting on the basement floor, Lily pressed close to his chest, James raised his wand for a final time, obliviating the fallen nun's memory before apparating out of the basement.

* * *

Remus Lupin sat quietly in the waiting room of St. Mungo's clinic, his nose buried in a particularly interesting book, _Why I Didn't Die When The Augurey Cried?_, by Gulliver Pokeby. The myth about the Augurey was that whenever it cried it foretold the death of all those who heard it—but Remus knew better. An Augurey only cried when it was about to rain.

Remus sighed and stuffed his book back into his canvass bag. He ran his hands through his sandy blonde hair in impatience, waiting for the nurse to return with the medication for his…malady. A hag sitting on his left eyed him and smiled—she was missing most of her top teeth and was belching out toads—and a wizard sat on his right, his skin a putrid orange color and his bald head sprouting vegetation. He'd explained to Remus his twelve-year-old had tried to transfigure him into a carrot.

Remus hated sitting in the commoners' waiting area. It wasn't because he felt superior or wanted special treatment; he was supremely fearful that someone belonging to the higher class would spot him and question him. He didn't want to disgrace his family's reputation or people to speculate his reason for being there. If anyone found out about his illness…

A sharp pop woke Remus out of his bored stupor. There, in the middle of the hospital clinic, stood a dark, remarkably handsome man drenched in blood. Remus strained his neck to catch a glimpse of the limp form of a woman nestled in his arms.

"Sir, we do not allow apparition in the cli-" a chubby-faced nurse began in annoyance, pursing her lips and lifting herself out of a chair behind the main desk.

"I need a team of healers!" James demanded, his voice frantic as he ignored the nurse and swept hair out of Lily's ashen face, "Now!"

"There are no beds, you will have to-" the nurse began again, flustered and alarmed at being ordered around.

"Do as he says. He's a Potter." Remus came up beside James, his tone authoritative and serious, "Healer Frankfurt will due."

The nun's face drained of color as she regarded James with immediate respect and muttered a quick apology.

"Please, Lord Potter, follow me."

"_Remus!_ What are you doing here?" James asked, relief washing over his features as he followed the nurse, Remus in tow, "Am I ever glad to see you!"

"It doesn't matter why I'm here—who is this?" Remus blanked, his eyes outlining the face of the pretty redhead in James' arms.

As James and Remus followed the nurse through corridors chalked full of doors, patients and nurses gathered in clusters to awe at the two Lords and the battered woman. Many wondered what two men of such status were doing with a poor schoolgirl.

"Just put her down in here." the nurse said, her breath ragged as she herded the two men into an empty room containing one pallid bed, "I'll fetch the healer and have him here as soon as possible."

James set Lily down in the hospital bed and sat on the edge, gripping her hand and watching her with worry-filled eyes. He had successfully stopped the bleeding and healed the wound, but it was not enough to convince him that she was stable. Remus remained near the doorway, stunned by James' emotion. His dull morning had become overwhelming with the apparition of James.

"I was under the impression you had just left St. Mungo's, Lord Potter." a bulky man in a white lab coat announced, side-stepping Remus as he entered the room, his healing intern following with a cart of assorted potions.

"You know how much I love St. Mungo's." James replied darkly, grimacing.

"What have we here?"

"It's bad, Frankfurt. This is Lily Evans; she fell down the stairs while at school and landed on a piece of glass that pierced her right shoulder." James indicated where he had healed Lily, "I didn't know what to do. I panicked, I-"

"You've done a fine job, Lord Potter. I'll ask you to leave the room like Lord Lupin while I examine her. Nothing to worry about, you must stop fretting." the healer replied soothingly, putting a hand on James' back and escorting him to the door.

"She's a muggle, Frankfurt." James stopped and whispered, his brow creasing as if he dared the magical doctor to protest.

"A muggle in St. Mungo's?" the healer ceased uncorking a potion and turned to James, perplexed and alarmed, "You know as well as I do I need Ministry authorization to heal a muggle, Lord Potter! I could lose my _job_ for this!"

"I'm sorry, Frankfurt, but if you don't help her you _will_ lose your job." James replied seriously, his voice barely audible, "Must I remind you my father is one of the most prominent benefactors of St. Mungo's?"

"Alright, _alright_!" Frankfurt hissed, his walrus-like moustache framing his blotchy red face, "But if anyone gets wind of this—"

James shut the heavy door and took a seat in the sitting area across from Lily's room. The walls were painted a pale blue, typical of any medical setting, and trimmed with white baseboards. Pasted over the walls, looking like awkward pieces of art, were posters advertising different sicknesses and healing potions.

Remus took a seat beside James, expectantly awaiting answers from his long-time friend.

"Who is she, James?" Remus whispered, patting James, who was hunched over with his face buried in his hands, on the back, "I know it's been a long time since I've seen you—"

"Her name is Lily Evans." James lifted his face from his hands, his forehead creased and crumpled; "I met her back in May, during my nineteenth birthday party."

"She's a noble woman? I've never come across her before. She's quite beautiful—are you romantically connected, James? Your mannerisms are enough to suggest you care for the woman."

"She's not a noble woman, Remus." James sighed, his eyes darting about the waiting room to ensure he wasn't being overheard, "You mustn't breathe a word of this to anyone, understood?"

"Of course I won't." Remus frowned, curiously leaning forward in his chair, "I've been able to trust you with my own…_frustration_—of course I'll return the curtsey."

"Forgive my caution." James apologized, offering his friend a small smile, "It's been too long since we last talked. I'm eager to hear about the new research you've conducted."

"And I'll be glad to accommodate your curiosity, James, but first tell me about this lovely redhead you've saved." Remus returned the smile, warmth spreading through him as he recalled his Hogwarts days with the Marauders—the happiest days of his life.

"Well, like I said, Lily isn't a noble woman. She's a commoner." James spoke slowly, the image of her appearing behind his eyelids as he continued, "She appeared in the Potter gardens the night of my party, like an out-of-place angel, soaked to the bone. You should have seen her, Remus…she was a vision. She's probably the smartest, feistiest woman I've ever met."

Hearing the words escaping his lips, James could barely believe what he was saying. The sight of Lily bleeding…her fragile state…it had heightened his fervour for her. He reckoned the seriousness of the situation had stimulated his protective nature—a nature that seldom surfaced, for he loved few, but it didn't make sense that he felt for her so deeply so quickly. James hadn't known Lily for long, barely two months, yet within him stirred an obsession—no, _passion_.

James winced. Remus always seemed to bring out the sensitive side of him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you speak of a woman so passionately!" Remus smiled affectionately, his stormy eyes encouraging as he urged James to continue, "You and this witch…are you courting?"

"It's complicated." James murmured, running his right hand through his mop of hair and sighing, "We're practically from different worlds. No, we _are_ from different worlds."

"You're being dramatic!" Remus scoffed, his smile widening, "Just because she isn't _royal_ doesn't mean it can't work out between you two."

"Slow down, Remus! You're giving me a _headache_." James closed his eyes, the possibility of him and Lily becoming a couple an irresistible, truly optimistic wish, "I haven't given you all the details yet."

"I know it'll be difficult to convince your mother to acquiesce to such a pairing, and you'll most definitely receive criticism from high society individuals, probably even the media, but—"

"Remus, _Remus_!" James threw up his hands, as if pleading for a breath of air, "You haven't even _met_ Lily yet, why are you getting ahead of yourself?"

"I don't need to meet the girl, James. The way you speak about her, the way you flushed that _disgusting_ shade of pink when I suggested courtship, the amount of concern your showing for her condition—that's enough to convince me she's special." Remus grinned, practically ecstatic at James's reaction to his reasoning, "Look at you! James _bloody_ Potter is _blushing_ like one of the schoolgirls that lusted after him at Hogwarts!"

"Shut up." James muttered, smiling despite his denial, "Last time I checked you were a researcher, not a bloody love doctor."

"What can I say? I have many hidden talents." Remus stretched out in his rickety chair like a tired lion, "Now, what's this '_we're from different worlds_' rubbish?"

James leaned in toward Remus, almost reluctant to betray the information.

"Lily is a... _muggle_."

"_Really_?" Remus whispered back, his mouth forming into a little 'O', "This plot just becomes more and more romantic by the minute."

"I told you it was complicated. _If_ we courted, I would never be able to bring her to any magical functions, expose her to our world…_nothing_!" James said, slumping in his chair and frowning, "It's an impossible situation. I'd always have a secret from her."

"Why don't you just tell her then?" Remus suggested nonchalantly, thoughtfully biting his bottom lip.

"Wow, what a _great_ idea!" James retorted sarcastically, his brow furrowed, "If my position and wealth doesn't scare her enough, why not frighten her off by telling her I'm a bloody _wizard_?"

"Well when you put it like that…" Remus trailed off, annoyed at his friend's defeatist attitude, "Listen, if you care for her and envision things going further, just accept the problems you may face and _deal_."

"Easier said than done, Remus." James muttered, heaving a great sigh.

James nearly leapt out of his seat when Healer Frankfurt exited Lily's room, his intern following in his wake. He removed a plastic pair of gloves and threw them on the trolley to be discarded later.

"Frankfurt! How is Lily?" James inquired immediately, closing the distance between them, "Will there be any permanent damage? Is she in pain? Is she-?"

"She's perfect, Lord Potter." Frankfurt offered nonchalantly, his moustache quirking upward in an amused smile, "Her bones have been repaired and the flesh is smooth and without blemish. She's sleeping now. I haven't yet obliviated her memory, but I'll—"

"That's not necessary, Frankfurt." James cut in, though his voice lacked the aggression it previously held, "I can easily explain this away. No need to involve the Ministry. Besides, we can't jeopardize your job."

"Oh, so _now_ you're concerned for my job?" Frankfurt frowned, folding his arms, "Very well, Lord Potter. I performed an anti-apparation spell in her room, in case some idiot accidentally apparates into her room and puts at risk magical security. Her door will also remain magically locked at all times. You may take her out of St. Mungo's once she is conscious, but, as she cannot walk out of here without witnessing magic, I'm giving you this."

The healer placed a small green pill in James' hand. James cocked an eyebrow.

"What will this do?" James asked sceptically.

"Knock her unconscious for a half an hour, enough time for you to apparate out of here with her. She should rest for a few days before returning to school. Drop the pill in a glass of water; it will instantly dissolve and she will think she is merely taking a drink of water. Don't bother checking out at the front desk; she's not an official patient."

Frankfurt smiled and turned to leave, but James caught him by the shoulder.

"Listen Frankfurt, I really appreciate you doing this for me. I panicked back there…I'm sorry I threatened to have you fired. You're one of the best healers in this institution, and after you brought me back to health…it was a poor way to repay you, and I'm sorry." James said genuinely, his eyes soft as he regarded the older man.

Frankfurt had known the Potters for a long while and knew what James had done was uncharacteristic. Unlike his mother and _numerous_ other members of high society, James was a sincere, honourable wizard—though many people did not know it. Frankfurt smiled. James had proven his heroism by aiding this poor muggle girl. How many nobles would help a fellow noble, never mind a muggle?

"Apology accepted, Lord Potter." Frankfurt shook James hand; James grinned, relieved, "And your…_secret_ is safe with me."

"Thank you, Frankfurt." James replied genuinely as the healer bid him adieu and left them to their own devices.

* * *

"_What do we do? As soon as he gets wind of the—"_

"_Hide her, somewhere no one would think to look—"_

"_But we must tell someone where she will be, we—"_

"_No one can know. It's for her own safety. We must never—"_

"_We'll never see her, I can't—"_

"_It will be done—"_

"_But the boy she will—?"_

"_It is too vague, he will never find—"_

Lily Evans jerked awake; her breath laboured and perspiration dotting her forehead. Small tears lingered in the corners of her eyes as she tried to recall the figures in her dream. No, she had not seen their faces. She had been listening behind a heavy door, her little ear pressed against the warmed wood. Was it a dream, or a memory?

Lily's eyes opened when she felt a dampened cloth pressed to her hot forehead. The pale blue room began to spin, but as she re-focused her eyes, Lily realized a sandy-haired man with an exquisite jaw line was standing by the edge of her bed, peering at her curiously. The man exuded a comforting serenity.

"You have startling eyes, Ms. Evans." the man said quietly, a small smile lingering on his rosy lips, "If you'll wait a moment, I'll fetch James for you. He's outside conversing with a…_doctor_."

Lily didn't seem to comprehend Remus Lupin's words as she struggled into an erect position and clutched the bed linens to her breasts. Looking around at her foreign surroundings she became alarmed.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Lily managed shakily; panic welling in the pit of her stomach, "What's going on?"

"Don't fret, Ms. Evans! My name is Remus Lupin, you're in a hospital. As James has explained to me, you took a nasty tumble down the stairs at your school. Do not be alarmed, you're safe." Remus attempted to sooth the startled redhead, "Sit tight for a moment, I'll be right back."

Lily watched Remus leave the room. As she got out of bed to follow him out, feeling perfectly healthy, she found the door locked. Contorting the handle in many different directions, Lily gave up and plopped back onto the hospital bed, feeling nervous. Why was the door locked? Remus had claimed she took a nasty fall down the stairs, but she did not have a scratch on her. Nothing ached, nothing looked bruised…yet she _did_ remember Sister Agatha slapping her after their quarrel. Had she really fallen down the stairs?

Lily quickly changed her mind: she did feel sick. Feeling ready to wretch due to her overpowering nervousness and uncertainty, Lily began to breathe erratically, unable to stop herself from panicking. _What do I do?_

Lily heard someone whisper behind her door, and mysteriously the door clicked open without the handle twitching once. Lily sucked into her lungs a breath of musty air when it was revealed who was entering.

"Lily, you're awake! Thank _Merlin_ you're alright!" James Potter looked visibly relieved as he entered the hospital room and locked the door behind him.

"_James_?" Lily gasped, her eyes becoming watery and sceptical, as if he were an apparition, "You're…you're here? I didn't think I'd ever see you again, I—?"

"Never see me again?" James repeated darkly, taking a seat in the chair by Lily's bed and reaching out for her clammy hand, an action that felt natural to him, "I'm sorry I was away for so long—I encountered some trouble in Paris…just got out of the hospital myself."

"I thought perhaps—well, I didn't know what to think. I'm just…I'm glad you're back." Lily blushed, her bold expression of her feelings taking her by surprise, "But what happened in Paris? Are you ok?"

A warm feeling inched up her arm as James held tightly onto her hand.

"Much better, now that I've reunited with you." James grinned, his heart fluttering due to the realization he was needed by Lily—that she _missed_ him, "Just a run in with a few…well, _criminals_, I guess."

"And it landed you in the _hospital_? Does this have anything to do with the war?" Lily probed, wondering what on earth a wealthy Lord was doing mixed up with a bunch of criminals.

"Yes, actually. I'd like to tell you more, but it's secret business." James explained, hoping Lily would cease questioning him, therefore he'd be able to cease lying, "I was in a coma for a few weeks. I only got out of the hospital yesterday. I hope you'll forgive my absence."

"_Bloody hell_, James! Thank god you're alive!" Lily gasped in shocked dismay, launched herself out of her hospital bed and into James' willing arms, hugging him tightly, "If I'd known, I wouldn't have concocted so many silly reasons for—well, it's not important."

James was about to warn Lily to stay in bed and not to strain herself, but he much preferred her in his arms. Holding her close to his chest, it was as if he'd never been away.

"And I arrived just in time, it seems." James said darkly; Lily untangled herself from his arms and faced him, "I walked into your school just as Sister Agatha pushed you down the stairs."

"So it did happen, then." Lily breathed, her eyes shifting from James' face to the floor, "It happened so quickly—I can't even recall what we were fighting about."

"That woman won't be working there for much longer, I promise you." James tilted Lily's chin upwards, trying to get her to match his stare, "She nearly killed you; I could have her arrested, Lily…"

"James, I—" Lily began, suddenly feeling dizzy as she thought of Agatha behind bars, "I don't know what I want to happen to her, but I can't have you fighting my battles for me. I'll figure out something, I mean, look at me! I'm fine."

_You're fine now, Lily, but you were close to death an hour ago_—James thought, fighting the impulse to tell her the truth—how much danger she was in when around that horrible nun.

"Things are just getting worse. First it was being strapped 'till your hands were raw, now it's being pushing down a flight of stairs. _Lily_! I have the power to make a _difference_ in that school. I wouldn't just be protecting you from that woman's temper, but the other girls as well!" James implored, reaching out and grasping Lily's hands, "You will end up seriously injured if I don't step in soon…"

"But…what if you can't have her sacked and she finds out I'm behind it? God only knows what will happen to me then." Lily whispered, her eyes filling with reluctant fear.

Lily had never been afraid of Sister Agatha before. She was a whale-like woman with a bad temper—but she had never physically intimidated her. Having her hands strapped seemed like nothing now—besides, she could handle it. Lily felt like she could still exert some control when Sister Agatha was punishing her. She used to be able to control her emotions in front of her…but now…

"I'll be honest with you, Lily. My family is probably one of the most powerful in London—England, even. I _will_ have her thrown out, I promise you. Not many people—never mind school board officials—would dare question a Potter. We just have too much wealth and influence." James spoke confidently, though he was not keen on revealing just how important his family was.

Before Lily could reluctantly reply, a small knock sounded at the door and Remus Lupin popped his head in. He held in his strong-looking hands a tray with a glass of water atop it. Once Lily looked closer, she also saw a bottle-green pill tucked into a napkin sitting serenely on the tray.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think it's time for Lily to take her _medication_." Remus spoke directly to James, his grey eyes trying to convey an ulterior message to James, "Doctor's orders, of course."

_Strange. Why was Remus in such a rush?_—thought James, still unsure of where he was going to take Lily.

"Thank you, but I'm sure it can wait a moment, Remus—"

"No. She must take it _now_." Remus urged, placing the tray beside Lily, "The pill will help ease your headache, Lily. I don't know if James told you, but you suffered a concussion."

"No, he didn't tell me." Lily replied, offering Remus a small, uncertain smile as she eyed the medication before her.

James smiled and nodded, indicating Lily should follow Remus' instructions. Lily extracted the pill from the tray Remus brought her and placed it at the back of her tongue. Taking a large gulp of water, Lily washed it back.

The effect was almost immediate. Lily gradually closed her eyes and fell back onto her plushy pillow, unaware she had been drugged for security purposes. James lightly brushed some red hair out of her face and took her hand, feeling for a pulse.

"I would've liked more time to speak with her." James frowned, anxiously running his hands through his hair, "I'm still not sure where to bring her. Until everything is fixed to my liking at her school, she'll stay with me—"

"James, we must leave. The reason I rushed in here was because there was a…_disturbance_ on the first floor. A small explosion. There's been speculation among staff that someone was trying to create a distraction to gain access to the other floors."

"_Death eaters_?" James whispered, immediately extracting his wand and ensuring the door was triple locked, "What…or _who_ could they be looking for at St. Mungo's?"

"It could be either of us; they know we are both in the Order. Anyways, I say we don't stick around to find out." Remus' eyes darkened as they fixated on James, "Do you have a summer home, a place outside of London, that you can take Lily? It might be a good idea for you two to get out of London before the paparazzi has a field day. It'll be safer, too."

"I know of a place…but I still have damage control to take care of at Lily's school. If the nuns find she's missing it could be splashed all over the papers, the muggle police might interfere. I've already wiped the culprit's memory—"

"Don't worry; I will take care of it for you." Remus assured James, eager to get him out of the hospital with Lily.

"Remus, I—" James began, rendered speechless by Remus' kindness and friendship, "It is too much to ask!"

"What are friends for?" Remus smiled warmly, his eyes understanding, "Now, _go_!"

James smoothly picked up Lily, draping her over his shoulder in order to free his right hand for using his wand. Grasping hold of Lily's legs, James shut his eyes as he conjured images in his mind. Within a moment, he'd vanished, Lily apparating along with him. Remus sighed.

He still had to pick up his wolfsbane potion. _Bugger_.

* * *

Lily stirred. As if on a timer, her eyes instantly opened, presenting her with a very different scene than the last she had awoken to. _Where am I now?_

The room she was resting in seemed to dance, light erratically splashed over the ceiling and walls. The room had a simple, rural décor, fashioned with mahogany furniture and bedecked with natural patterns. Unlike the hospital room she'd previously been in, here she felt comfortable—_safe_.

Lily curiously sat up and realized why the room sparkled so.

Outside the window opposite her bed was a beautiful lake, the colour a crystalline blue, tinged with soapy green. It was a fair size and surrounded by ancient evergreen trees the size of mythical giants. The water looked pure; untouched, as if no one had swam in it for millions of years. Luminous in the sun's late hue, the water seemed to call to Lily. A wooden dock extended from the pebbled shore, a rickety old boat fastened to it.

There, standing ankle deep in water, was James, his back to the cottage.

Lily got up off the bed and pressed her face close to the window, having the chance to admire James from afar. He was, without a doubt, one of the most attractive men she had ever encountered. The slight summer's breeze made his dark hair look more tousled than usual and slithered down his slender back, making his fresh shirt flap in the back. His stance was pensive; Lily wondered what he was thinking about.

Turning away from the window, Lily decided to explore the little cottage further. Creeping into the hall, Lily passed a dusty mirror propped up on a table and stopped to inspect her reflection. Wiping some of the grim away, Lily realized she was no longer in her school uniform, but a simple white dress made of duchesse satin that flowed to her knees and revealed her creamy shoulders. Her fiery hair was loose and wavy, making it look slightly unattended, yet beachy. Her feet were bare.

"How did I get into this?" Lily murmured, fingering the soft fabric and continuing down the hall towards the kitchen.

The kitchen was the epitome of providence design. The storage cabinets were white-washed and antiqued, the counters composed of crude-looking wood used for chopping boards. On the sill by the window was a silver pail acting like a planter, housing the white blooms of cow parsley. In the right corner of the room was a round table, Victorian-styled chairs cluttered around it, while located to the left was a wood-burning stove and cooler.

Lily cocked an eyebrow. There was no electricity.

Lily opened the cabinets and found multiple candles and oil lamps covered in cobwebs, as well as sets of china and tea cups. In the cooler there were fresh vegetables, milk, and fish, while arranged neatly on the counter was bread, potatoes, and fruit.

Lily smiled. It was quaint and comfortable.

Having explored the rest of the house, Lily discovered it was quite smaller than she had anticipated, having a kitchen, powder room, two bedrooms, and a tiny den with a fire place. It lacked a proper dining room and spacious lounge… but what did Lily know about such things? She'd been in school since she could remember.

In her opinion it was _perfect_, exuding a sense of humbleness and seclusion.

Lily exited the cottage and stepped out onto a veranda that wrapped around the entire house like a tightly bound parcel. The deck was festooned with white wicker furniture and shielded from the elements by a wooden dormer. Lily descended the few stairs from the porch and plunged her feet into the yellowish sand, squinting as the burning sun filled her eyes with pinkish-purple color.

Lily approached James quietly, the crashing surf and distant squealing seagulls the only sounds reverberating in her ears. James arched his head and peered over his shoulder, seemingly expecting her. Lily's smile faltered; there seemed something amiss in his dark eyes.

"You're awake." James turned, drinking in the angelic image of the redhead, "How are you feeling?"

"I can't recall ever feeling sick, to tell you the truth." Lily replied calmly, the cold water sending shivers up her back as she stood beside James, "What is this place?"

"It's called Godric's Hollow." James said, subtly reaching for Lily's hand and warming it with his, "My father used to take me here when I was young. We'd fish, swim, canoe…but that was a long time ago. I doubt any Potter has been here in over ten years. Only he and I knew about it, you see."

"It's beautiful…and it looks so well kept. Are you sure no one has been here?" Lily asked doubtfully, looking over at the modest cottage again, "I saw food in the kitchen."

"I said no _Potter_ has been here in nearly ten years, Lily. We do, however, have an elderly woman that comes once a week to clean the cottage, tend the garden, and stock the cooler with food. Her name is Edna." James explained, walking back to the shore with Lily and nestling in the warm sand, "The cottage is always ready for us, in case we plan a chance visit like this one."

"But why did you bring me here? Not that I'm complaining—" Lily inquired, the sun making her hair shine like the facet of a ruby; she felt her cheeks getting rosy in the warmth.

The truth was, James didn't quite know why he brought Lily there. The Potter's had so many summer homes tucked away in the country, fully staffed—yet this one always stood out in his mind. It was a secret place he had shared with his father, a place where he could stay uninterrupted. It was filled with so many memories, now bittersweet. More than anything it was an escape.

"Until things cool off at your school I…well, I thought it best to bring you here." James spoke softly, his chocolate eyes luring Lily into a sense of comfort and content, "I would've asked your permission first, had that medication Remus gave you not put you to sleep. If you're not pleased, I can bring you back at any—"

Very uncharacteristically, Lily slinked her arm around James' neck and pulled him into a soft kiss—a kiss which James gladly returned with simmering passion. James gently pushed Lily back onto the sand and positioned himself atop her, tenderly pinning her to the ground. Lily entangled her fingers in James' hair to deepen the kiss, which, unlike the last, was sensual and seemed more…_natural_. The last was exciting and erotic; this was emotional. Lily felt more connected to him.

James pulled away to look into Lily's eyes, his lips swollen from her touch. She looked back at him, seemingly trying to guess what he was thinking. James' face was partially shadowed, the romantic sun barely peeking over the horizon.

"Don't you know?" Lily whispered, not shying away from his almost fearful eyes, "There's no place I'd rather be than here with you."

James was fearful—fearful that his feelings for Lily were growing too powerful. He was no longer merely _physically_ attracted to her…he hadn't been for awhile. There was so much more now, and that scared him.

He dipped down and kissed Lily more fervently, pushing his worries about their future to the back of his mind. He couldn't think too far ahead. Life was too precious, _especially_ now, to worry away.

As the landscape drowned in the shadow of the night, neither James nor Lily noticed the jewel-black owl perched atop the cottage roof, watching them with hollow eyes.

* * *

**»-(¯v´¯)-»AUTHOR'S NOTES»-(¯v´¯)-»**

Thank you to all those who rewarded me with their reviews! : ) Please continue Reading & Reviewing!

-pratty prongs princesse


	10. Chapter 10

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter Ten- What a Feeling

"I never understood before. I never knew what love was for. My heart was broke, my head was sore. What a feeling." –Aqualung

_June 29, 1940_

…_Paris captured on the fourteenth of June, nineteen forty… negotiations between new French Premier Henri-Philippe Petain and Adolf Hitler… a__rmistice signed with Germany on the twenty-second of June… Germany now controlling three fifths of France...surrender of all Jews in France to German army…four-hundred-thousand Frenchmen killed during invasion…control of coast…preparing for air attack on Britain…_

The library in the Potter mansion was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from a single candlestick dribbling wax. According to the clock on the fireplace mantle, it was nearly midnight. The staff had long retired for the night, the only residents of the mansion having dismissed them early. Two remained awake, silently listening to the crystal set buzz and spit out more horrific news. James Potter sat a large winged-back chair near the fire, his face buried in his hands. His hair looked more rumpled than normal, a sign of stress and incessant brooding. Sirius Black stood before him, raw emotion on his handsome face. His expression was taut as a board, the fire reflecting in his eyes. He kneeled down before James, planting both hands on the chair's arms.

"Please tell me this is a joke." Sirius Black whispered gravely, his usually grinning face contorted in disbelief, "Both Dumbledore and Churchill forbid it, James. You know that."

"All I know, Sirius, is that I'm not staying behind and doing nothing like some coward," James whispered, his chocolate- brown eyes looking up into Sirius', "How can I? This is as much our responsibility as it is theirs."

"James. _Please_." Sirius pleaded sincerely, beginning to feel hopeless, "Think of the repercussions. You can't perform magic, Dumbledore-"

"Then I won't, Sirius. I'll fight like every other man," James replied, though the very thought compelled him to reconsider, "I'm registering for the RAF tomorrow. Dumbledore can't control my every action. I'm loyal to the Order, but I'm also loyal to my country."

"_Not_ use magic?" Sirius frowned, swallowing hard, "It's ridiculous! You sound so _final_. How long have you been plotting this?"

"It's been on my mind for some time now. Ever since Denmark—and now with Paris seized…" James divulged, sighing as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, "I'm done being in denial about this war. It's happening all around us, Sirius. England's next, and all those pretending otherwise won't know what hit them."

"Your mother will prevent it. Can you imagine the heir to the Potter fortune, _Lord_ James, fighting in a _muggle_ war? If you were to…well-"

"_Die_?" James whispered, searching Sirius' troubled face, "Then perhaps my life will have purpose. Rotting away in this house, attending meaningless parties…I refuse to be useless, to hide behind my title."

"You don't need to _die_ to find purpose in your life!" Sirius did not look convinced by James' answer; "What about your mother and father?"

"I'll be gone by tomorrow night. Mother won't realize I'm missing until next week, when she comes back home from Australia." James spoke bitterly, yet evenly, "I could care less how she reacts. I'll tell no one—save Dumbledore and the Order—what my plans are. She won't find out for some time."

"This is the most ludicrous idea you've come up with to date, James." Sirius announced, looking distant as he looked over James' right shoulder at the rain-spattered window, "Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?"

"No," James said, heaving a sigh, then half-heartedly smiling at his downtrodden friend, "Think of it this way, you'll be rid of me for a little while. All the society women to yourself."

"You're _thick_." Sirius scoffed, getting up and pacing about the room, "Speaking to me as if you're moving to the _sodding_ Amazon! You'll probably be based in Uxbridge or Kent, both of which aren't far from here, and you won't even be alone."

"What do you mean?" James squinted behind his spectacles.

"You think I'm letting you go by yourself?" Sirius demanded, his expression skeptical, "Not _bloody_ likely. If you're devoting yourself to the cause, so am I. I'm not going to let you get your head _blown off_!"

"_No!_" James stood up, his features frantic as he nearly knocked over the candle by his chair and singed the carpet, "Don't you _dare_ make a decision based upon what I'm doing! I won't have you killed because I decided to enter this war."

"Stop flattering yourself." Sirius narrowed his eyes, seemingly more mature and pragmatic than he had ever been, "You're not the only one whose's been thinking about joining up. You just had the impudence to react before I did. Like you, my mind's made up. Don't bother trying to change it."

James Potter stood rooted to the hardwood floor, a mixture of feelings settling in his gut. He was scared, he was angry, he was anxious…but now, comforted. He did not try to deter Sirius; instead, he felt a rush of emotion for him, a sense of respect for the brother he never had. Through thick and thin, they had always been there for each other…even now, during the devastation of Europe.

"I'm glad you're with me, Sirius."

Sirius crossed the hearth and placed a reassuring hand on James' shoulder, the two of them remaining silent as they watched the ruby coals seethe in the fireplace. Warmth washed over them, but a cold air surrounded the perimeter of the room, lingering like a dormant disease ready to spread. The tinker of an off-key gramophone sounded down the hallway.

"We'll be ok, won't we?" Sirius asked uncertainly, turning to James for reassurance; James had never seen him so tentative.

"We're _Marauders_, Sirius." James replied, the schoolboy gang he had formed with Sirius, Remus and Peter surfacing in his mind; the thought of Hogwarts seemed foreign in these difficult times, "We've survived worst. Filch's detentions, for example."

"Seems like so long ago we were there," Sirius said, cracking the first true smile of the evening; it quickly disappeared, "How long do you reckon we'll be gone for?"

"It could be weeks; it could be years," James juggled the possibilities, hands dug deeply in his pockets as he continued to stare intently at the fire, "Who can really say?"

Sirius licked his lips nervously, then scrunched up his face, "From what Remus' told me, you and Lily are closer than ever... will you leave without a word with her?"

_Lily_. James had hoped Sirius wouldn't bring her up, for he was already torn about what to do about her. The few days they'd spent at Godric's Hollow had been enchanting, yet they had burdened him, knowing it could be their last time together. He'd planned to join the air force long before Godric's Hollow, which made departing from her so much harder. The number of times he'd nearly reconsidered joining up was staggering. James was falling hard and fast for Lily, and he sincerely hoped she wasn't.

"I think it's best I leave without alerting her," James began, his eyes flickering from the fire to Sirius, "I told her I'd meet her tomorrow afternoon in the apple orchard… but I can't."

"Why leave the girl heartbroken, James? Doesn't she deserve the truth?" Sirius asked skeptically, though his voice remained quiet and severe, "I know I'm not one to talk, but it'll hurt her if you leave without an explanation. Don't do her such a disservice."

"Don't you understand, Sirius?" James demanded, his temper rising despite his best attempts to keep it at bay, "It's better for her this way. If she feels what I feel for her…I can't have her worrying about me dying. I _won't_ have her mourn over my death, Sirius. It's better for her to think I left, that I'm an arrogant jackass. Anger is much more bearable than sadness."

"You speak as if you're already _dead_," Sirius spat, narrowing his eyes; "This isn't about what's best for her, is it? It's about what's best for _you_. You don't want to have to say goodbye. It would break you."

"You don't have a clue what you're talking about, _Black_." James retorted scathingly, folding his arms obstinately—a very _Potter-like_ trait.

"You'd be surprised," Sirius returned, though less harshly, "I'm not fighting with you about this, James. I just think you're making a mistake with her."

"Sirius, you don't know what its like." James whispered, the anger beginning to dissipate, "You've never…fallen in love."

"_Love?_" Sirius whispered blinkingly, surprised to hear James utter the word, "You're right, James, but remember: you're privileged enough to have found it. Don't waste it."

Sirius sauntered away, disappearing down the dark corridor. They would depart together tomorrow to sign up, and then an army motorcar would come by to pick them up with the rest of the recruits. James watched him leave wordlessly; he clutched his sides as the cold crept upon him, slithering across the floor. He felt strangely empty as he regarded the fire once more.

_It's for the best, Lily.

* * *

_

It was late afternoon. The sun was hidden by ominous cloud cover and the landscape appeared very gray. Lily sat at the back of the English classroom with Roxanne, obediently reading along to Shakespeare's _Macbeth_. Lily absently doodled in the corner of her disheveled copy, staring out the window as the nun's words failed to penetrate her brain. Lily did, however, perk up whenever the witches were mentioned, muttering incantations and professing the future. _I don't read into the future—I can't possibly be a witch—_Lily thought, bitterly remembering the prank letter she had received only a few weeks back.

Roxanne turned in her chair abruptly and threw a small piece of scrunched up paper at Lily, jolting her out of her daydream. The teacher, Sister Gertrude, noticed, but simply ignored the illegal note passing and continued with her lesson. Lily frowned as she bent to pick up the scrunched up paper, wondering why the nun had disregarded her rule- breaking. Lily could feel Acantha's glares on the back of her head.

Returning from Godric's Hollow had been quite a strange affair. Upon arriving, Lily had learned Sister Agatha had taken a few weeks off to vacation in Kent due to a purported head injury and that Sister Marietta has temporarily taken over the position of Head Mistress. Lily had expected a very harsh welcoming the night of her return, but instead Sister Marietta had indifferently ordered her to bed. Ever since her arrival, the nuns had treated her with a similar air of apathy—an embraced change on Lily's part. The adjustment did, however, make Lily uneasy, as if doom was impending.

Did _James_ orchestrate this revolution?

Lily unraveled Roxanne's note and spread it over the table. After reading, she passed it back to Roxanne, and vice versa.

_What are you thinking about, Lily?_

**Nothing. Just willing myself to keep awake.**

_You're a liar. You're thinking about James, aren't you?_

**No! **(Lily blushed when she read this) **Honestly, you probably think about him more than I do!**

_Yeah, right! I've never seen you so dewy-eyed before! Ever since he saved you __again__ all you've done is daydream and smile! What happened on that trip to his holiday home? _

**Ok, **_**ok**_**! So I like him? I admit it! What would you do in my situation?**

_Be counting my lucky stars! It's not every day a girl acquires a handsome, filthy rich Lord that worships and __snogs__ her!_

**Oh, be quiet! He does not **_**worship**_** me and he's not **_**that**_** amazing! **(Roxanne saw her smile as she wrote this)

_Whatever you say, lover girl! ;)_

**Buck up, you! By the way, can you cover for me again tonight?**

_How am I going to do that!?! _

**I don't know, if any of the nuns come looking for me, tell them I'm helping in the kitchens or serving another detention?**

_Where are you going now?!?_

**Apple orchards to meet James…**

_UH OH! What will you two be getting up to there?_

**Roxanne! What are you implying?!?**

It was strange. For the first time, Lily had accepted her relationship with James Potter. Yes, he was a Lord with money and status, but he was also just a man—a man that cared for her. Lily didn't question that he liked her, either. The time they'd spent together at Godric's Hollow had been… well, _good_! They'd frolicked in the water, laid on the hot sand, kissed at the end of the dock…yet he'd remained a gentleman the entire trip. They'd been alone, secluded…shared wine and strawberries, but he never once tried to take advantage of her or make her do something she wasn't ready for. If she were worth nothing to him, or regarded as a mere play toy, she doubted he would treat her with such respect.

Thinking of him now, a warm feeling settled inside her. His messy hair, his strong arms, the eyes that could make her melt with a single glance—his _lips_…

Sister Gertrude jarred Lily out of her new daydream.

"Everyone please pack up your books and materials. Class will end early today due to a scheduled in the dining hall. Single file, if you please."

"What'do you think this will be about?" Roxanne cocked an eyebrow as she rose out of her seat and gathered up her books, "Maybe it's about the Ball?"

"Not a clue. When is that Ball supposed to take place again?" Lily inquired, following Roxanne out of the classroom and begrudgingly holding back from tripping Acantha on the way, "You bought your dress for it ages ago."

"I did," Roxanne frowned, entering the dining hall with Lily and taking a seat near the back, "I never gave it much thought, but I suppose many boys from the all-gentlemen school are joining the war."

Lily paused. She had never thought of that possibility either.

Once all the girls had been seated, Sister Marietta, a petit yet stern looking woman, rose out of her chair at the front of the hall and clinked her water goblet with a spoon, indicating to the crowd she was ready to speak. Puffing out her chest and adjusting her head piece, she began.

"Good afternoon ladies," Sister Marietta started politely, folding her hands over her lap and peering around at the girls, "I regret having to extract you from your classes today, but the issue I wish to discuss with all of you is pressing and ought not be ignored. I am referring to, of course, the war."

Lily immediately perked up, eager and nervous about the information she was about to freely be given. Across the hall, Lily observed Acantha and her friends huff in annoyance, as if they had not the patience for such twattle. Lily knew they were ignorant when it came to the war.

But…..why were the nuns offering them information _now_?

"Belonging to a prestigious school that teaches young, soon-to-be aristocratic ladies, we have not enlightened you on the war, such an issue having no importance in a young ladies life-"

Lily scoffed at this comment and rolled her eyes.

"-but now, unfortunately, the war has taken a turn for the worst. All in our country must begin preparing in case of an attack from the Germans."

This comment had quite a different affect on the girls. Many gasped, clutching onto their friends and whispering frantically, while others stared in disbelief. One girl announced, "But we're the most powerful country in the world!", as her best friend began to cry. Nuns scattered about the room, calming down the frazzled female population as Sister Marietta chimed her glass louder.

"Please, ladies! Do not panic!" Sister Marietta urged, beginning to begrudge Sister Agatha's decision to keep the girls sheltered from the war, "I am certain the fine men serving in our military will protect us from such an occurrence, but the government has introduced precautions and preparatory measures in case of an attack."

Lily paused, wondering how the Germans would go about attacking them. Natural barriers, like the North Sea, the River Thames, and the ocean, would work to Britain's advantage. After all, tanks couldn't maneuver over water. Britain also had the finest navy in Europe—how could Germany possibly touch them?

Her question was quickly answered.

"If, and I stress _if_, the Germans launch an air attack on Great Britain, the government has installed alarms around the city that will alert us of such happenings so that we may find cover quickly." Sister Marietta explained gently, searching the crowd of disbelieving faces, "Churchill will be sounding a false alarm within the hour to give us all an idea of what it will sound like and a chance to run through our drill."

"_Air attack?_" Roxanne whispered to Lily, who was intently listening, "What are they going to do, shoot down civilians on the street?"

"I expect they'd do something a little more dramatic," Lily replied gravely, discreetly turning to Roxanne so that the other traumatized girls couldn't hear, "They'll probably bomb us—that way they'll devastate us economically as well. We'll have civilian casualties and crumbling buildings. It'll be absolute chaos."

"Have I ever told you you're too brilliant for your own good?" Roxanne frowned, wondering how Lily could've possibly pieced that together on her own.

"I read a lot." Lily mumbled, turning her attention back to the Sister Marietta.

"When you hear this alarm, wherever you are, you must calmly report to the front foyer of the school. Once we are all assembled we will retire to the basement where food, candles, and other survival materials are being stored. We will not run through this drill today when the alarm sounds, but we will any time after, regardless of our activities at the time."

After she finished delivering her speech, Sister Marietta took a seat and pursed her lips together, almost as anxious as the chattering schoolgirls around her. Many, not knowing what to do, silently chewed on biscuits that were beings passed around on silver platters along with freshly brewed tea.

The only girl who seemed unperturbed by the disquieting information was Acantha.

"Upset? I'm not upset in the _least_," Lily heard Acantha announce to one of her visibly distressed girlfriends, running her manicured fingers through her long black tresses, "I expect my father will do something about this. I can't fathom him allowing me to stay in such a dangerous place unprotected. He'll probably have me schooled in Sweden until it's safe again-"

"If that's true, I hope this war goes on _forever_." Roxanne mumbled, slouching in her chair and narrowing her eyes in Acantha's direction.

"Agreed." Lily whispered back, a smile threatening to twitch on her face; however, it quickly disappeared when a realization smacked her square in the forehead, "I reckon if things get worse here many girls will get pulled out of school…maybe even you."

"My parents are off in India somewhere. Their main priority is import and export—I doubt they'd bother jumping on a boat and coming to fetch me." Roxanne muttered bitterly, half-heartedly smiling at Lily, "You're stuck with me, don't worry."

"Oh, bother!" Lily retorted comically, silently hoping Roxanne was right—she didn't know what she'd do without her, "I was _so_ hoping you'd get shipped off!"

"You're a bitch." Roxanne announced, quirking a smirk and folding her arms over her navy-blue uniform sweater, "But then again, so am I. I've forgotten—I've got a little treat for us to enjoy when you get home from your rendezvous with that Potter bloke! That is…_if_ you come home."

"Shut up," Lily provided Roxanne with a toothy, yet sly grin, "What's this surprise, then? Pinched some wine from the kitchens again?"

"Even better!" Roxanne winked, blithely pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her sweater pocket and discreetly showing them to Lily, "Are you a fan of _de Maurier_, madam?"

"How did you manage to get _those_?" Lily breathed, her eyes afire with excitement as she fingered the red-packaged fags, "If _young ladies _like us are caught smoking, imagine the consequences!"

"We couldn't possibly get in trouble for smoking—we're not young _ladies_," Roxanne laughed, pocketing the package again, "We're more like young hooligans on a mission to turn high-society upside down!"

Lily began laughing, anticipation for her visit with James and now late-night smoke with Roxanne building in her gut, but suddenly stopped. Her heart pumped furiously in her chest and her stomach lurched in fright when a high-pitched screech filled the room, the streets, and the city. Acantha was rendered speechless; the nuns' calm faces faltered; pedestrians outside froze. Lily felt compelled to dive under the table, but settled with digging her fingernails into her chair. She exchanged a terrified look with Roxanne, who appeared just as unsettled as her.

It wouldn't be the last time Lily would hear the city scream.

* * *

"Need a hand, mate?"

James lackadaisically accepted the hand of a man dressed in a freshly-pressed private's uniform. He was hoisted into the back of a muddy-green army jeep parked outside of his empty mansion, his bag thrown in a pile with the others. James squinted (because of the blaring sun) at the five men, most the same age as him, that were already seated in the exposed back of the truck. All, save one, remained silent when he joined them.

"How're you?" the young man that had helped James onto the truck said in a thick Liverpool accent, extending a hand toward him, "Name's Peter Darby, but yeh can call m' Darby."

"Hi," James shook his hand firmly, wiling himself to smile, but failing, "James Potter."

"Nice to meet yeh, Potter!" Darby smiled, his handsome eyes still retaining a twinkle despite his predicament, "What's a rich bloke like yeh doing in this war, eh? Look at the size of yer goddamn house!"

"Just serving my country." James replied modestly, inwardly second-guessing himself as he leaned forward and fumbled with the silly hat on his head, "Why have you joined up?"

"Me father would've killed me if I hadn't. He's too old ter go to war, yeh see, so he said to me, he said _"Petey, go earn yer family some respect!"_ n' that's what I'm doing." Darby explained, as if it made perfect sense, "Anyway, I'd like ter see some action!"

James couldn't help thinking that Darby was joining up for all the wrong reasons. Why would you fight a war to earn your families' respect? What about your own self-respect?

"Any idea how many more men we'll be picking up?" James Potter changed the subject when the jeep rumbled to a start and cocked an eyebrow when Darby passed him a cigarette and lit the end of it.

"The driver said about four more chaps. The last stop is some dodgy house down Grimmauld," Darby said, waving merrily to a particularly pretty blonde woman walking down the street, "Getting anxious, are yeh?"

"I guess you could say that." James replied, burying his face in his hands and slouching forward.

The day was beautiful. It was not a typical sunny day—rather, dark clouds dotted the sky, casting the landscape in partial shadow, while the sun peaked through them and caused puddles and droplets on the leaves of trees to sparkle. The sun was beginning to set; in about an hour the landscape would be drenched in dawn colors. As the jeep trudged along the bumpy road, women and young girls stopped to wave at the uniformed men on the back of the truck, either out of respect or admiration for them. James was reminded of her.

The army jeep turned down a residential, slightly-run down street on the outskirts of London and pulled into the driveway of a small, yellow house. On the stoop stood a clean-shaven man in his late thirties, smartly dressed in his army uniform with his hands in his pockets. James looked up at him; he looked tired, remorseful, and poignant.

Just as the car pulled up, the man's young family came spilling out from the house; his wife, his elder son, and his little girl. His wife stifled tears as he bent down to hug his little girl, who knew not where her father was going, then his stony-faced son, who looked angry and upset, but refused to let his father see him cry. He remained strong in front of his children, but when he turned toward his stricken wife, faltered. James saw him mouth the words "I love you" to her, which she was barely able to return. Tears were running down her cheeks when her husband kissed her and squeezed her hand.

"Please don't go…" she whispered, swallowing back her tears, "I know I promised I wouldn't, but please…I need you…I _love_ you."

James abruptly turned away, staring hard at the floor of the jeep. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, taking a large and deep puff of his cigarette. He inwardly wished the man would stay back with his family—a wish that evaporated when the equilibrium in the jeep shifted with the man's weight.

The jeep grumbled to a start and slowly began down the road. James looked up at the new recruit, who was dabbing at the sides of his eyes.

"DAD! WAIT!"

The man turned around, his son following in the vehicle's wake, "Christopher! Oh, Christopher, _my son_!"

"DON'T GO!" the son pleaded, running up along the side of the jeep; James watched the exchange and felt a pang in his chest.

The boy's face was red with anguish; tears leaked out of the side of his face as he ran after his father, hopelessness evident in his teenage voice. _So young_! The man he idolized, looked up to, never ceased trying to impress…slowly gliding away, perhaps never to be seen again.

"I'll be alright, Chris! Take good care of your mother and sister!" the man shouted back, his voice hoarse with emotion, "I'll come back…I'll come back…"

The boy disappeared in a cloud of exhaust when the car turned the corner, the cries for his father slowly melding with the sound of the engine. The older man ceased looking behind him and placed his face in his hands, his body subtly shaking.

James' eyes regarded the man with great respect, if not jealousy. He was so _loved_. He had a wife and children that were stricken with grief because of his departure and the man was fighting for _them_. He was fighting as a husband and a father.

James looked up into the moody sky and closed his eyes. Who did he have? Who loved him? James knew Sirius did—they were practically brothers—but what of his parents, what of his family? At that moment, jostled about on the back of an army jeep, dressed in air force attire, he felt like he didn't have one.

"You have beautiful children," James mustered morosely, opening his eyes and peering into the chiseled face of the older man.

He looked up at James and smiled sadly, something James hadn't anticipated, "They get their good looks from their mother, but I see a lot of myself in Christopher," the man drawled, slouching upwards and observing James for the first time, "You married?"

"No," James replied solemnly, sighing as a wry, sarcastic little smile surfaced.

"But you have a girl, don't you?" the man said knowingly, reading the expression and denial on his young comrade's face, "She beautiful?"

James swallowed hard and looked away from the man, feeling his chest contract uneasily. He didn't want to think about her or talk about her…it tormented him, knowing he was leaving the only person that he…but no, did he really _love_…? If he did, how would he know? How could he tell? He'd never been in love before…

_Yes_, she was beautiful, more beautiful and spirited than any woman he'd ever known…and he was leaving her behind. Would she ever know what happened to him? How much he cared…?

"I…I don't have—" James began slowly, looking at the floor of the jeep, though his eyes remained transparent.

"She knows your fighting for her, doesn't she?" the older man said kindly, gently clapping James on the back, "She knows, and that's all that matters. If it weren't for my family's support, though they're sad I'm leaving, I don't think I could go on. My children know their father is going out to protect them."

James' head hung limply as the jeep continued on, his throat burning and his eyes closed.

_I never saw it happening  
I'd given up and given in  
I just couldn't take the hurt again  
What a feeling_

She doesn't know…

* * *

It was nearing dawn. Lily walked along a dirt road lined with majestic trees toward the apple orchard, the orange sun burning behind the tree line, illuminating the caliginous landscape. The tall grass in the fields swayed back and forth in the wind as if it were dancing to a private song. The dirt and small stones under her feet crunched with her every move, the sound being the loudest in the serene area. Lily traversed the extraordinary landscape quietly, clutching a white daisy she had plucked along the way.

Lily's fiery hair was down, trailing along her spine and hugging her shoulders, and her eyes appeared yellowy-green, the sun bringing out the unusual colour in them. Her dress—the same white-gossamer one she's worn at Godric's Hollow—occasionally caught the soft breeze, the sheer fabric flapping behind her.

She felt contented to be away from school, away from the war. Here, alone in nature, she could be happy; she could be with James.

Lily felt her heart leap when the apple orchard came into view, white flowers blooming on every tree. She stepped into the fertile earth and headed toward the middle, it being the place where she and James had met before. The sun was warm on her face as she moved about the rows, her eyes having trouble adjusting to the romantic light. She came upon the middle of the orchard and looked around, realizing James hadn't arrived yet.

_I got a feeling in my soul…_

Lily kicked off her shoes and leaned against a tree, darting her eyes about the orchard. She sighed and looked up, the sky beginning to darken with clouds. Time slowly ticked by, making Lily anxious and tired, and with it came a light drizzle.

_Let the rain fall, I don't care. I'm yours and suddenly you're mine._

Lily's back slid down the tree. Nestled on the warm ground, Lily hugged her exposed legs up to her chest, water droplets snaking down them. She rested her weary head on her knees, feeling her moist hair around her ears. Would she wait for hours? Would she wait for days?

Her dress was damp now, the ends muddy. She closed her eyes and warmed her legs with her hands, her thoughts melding with dreams of what lay ahead. The clouds above her were ominous, but docile, and small, efflorescence cockles grew near her feet Here, alone in the apple orchard, her heart ached—but she was peaceful.

_I didn't have the strength to fight, but suddenly, now..._

She opened her emerald eyes, her own tears fusing with the soft rain.

_You seem so right._

Thunder reverberated, the rumble slightly shaking the ground. Lily could feel her heart inching toward her throat, threatening to gag her. Her breathing came labored as the sky gradually darkened, settling on an evening mauve.

She's told herself over and over again not to let anyone in; it would only end in sadness. For awhile she'd felt alive, invigorated, _free_…now…now it would go back to the way it was. Lily didn't understand why she felt such a sense of despair, why she assumed the worst—all she knew was he wasn't coming.

Lily wiping her tear-stained face with the back of her dirty hand and got up, wet hair sticking to her face. Her legs quaked as she got up and walked into the middle of the row, her feet sinking in the mug. She stood for a moment, taking a another quick glance down the row of apple trees, then began to walk away, much slower than she had came. _Why? _

"Lily."

She wished she could hear him speak her name one more time, feel his strong arms around her, protecting her. It was all she could do to keep from not screaming. How dare he mean so much to her…how did she let it happen? She felt foolish for letting him in…for crying over him…but she couldn't stop.

"_Lily_, wait!"

Lily stopped, hearing the wind carry a voice to her ears. She turned, the rain pelting her bare skin, her emerald eyes visible through the mist.

"James?" Lily whispered in inclement emotion, disbelieving of the figure running towards her, dressed in a dirty green _army_ uniform, "_James_?"

_Please don't be a mirage_—Lily choked silently, fresh tears piercing her eyes as she ran towards him, adrenalin pushing her cold body forward, "James?"

"_Lily_!"

She crushed against his body, James arms enveloping her in a fierce hug and burying his face in her neck, gasping for air as his eyes stung with tears. They were holding one another so tightly their legs buckled and they collapsed onto their knees, both holding onto each other for dear life. James removed his head from Lily's shoulder and pressed his lips against hers, sucking the breath from her lungs and moaning in passion and agony. Lily broke away minutes later, locking eyes with James, who was also drenched.

"I thought you weren't coming," Lily whispered, gulping back emotion as she ran a hand along James' face, tracing the outline of his jaw.

"I didn't want to make this anymore difficult…but I realized I can't go without you knowing," James breathed, recognizing the fear and confusion in her bottle-green eyes.

"But…where are you going?" Lily blinked, her lips parting as her eyes took in his appearance; why was he wearing a military uniform?

"I've joined the air force, Lily," James said softly, reaching out for Lily's hand and grasping it tightly, bringing it to his lips, "I'm leaving tonight…"

"_No._" Lily whispered in denial, slipping her hand out of his and drawing upwards, her expression disbelieving, "You're a Potter, you couldn't possibly-"

James rose to his feet, his eyes clouded, brooding, intense…Lily looked so naïve and vulnerable, drenched and disbelieving in the rain, her white dress sticking to her figure alluringly and her hair a mess of wet curls. It reminded him of the first night they met in the gardens…if only he's known what would've become of them then…

"It's done." James said, running an agitated hand through his black hair and taking a step closer to Lily, "I need to know you'll be here waiting for me, Lily. I can't go without knowing."

He was really doing it, and Lily couldn't believe it. There he was, tall, strong, and resilient—wearing his heart on the sleeve of his military uniform. Lily choked back a sob when she looked into his face; he was being truly genuine—he'd opened his heart to her, he'd unwittingly given her access to it…and now he was leaving, maybe forever…

"I don't want you to go," Lily said breathlessly, her emerald eyes overflowing with fresh tears as James pulled her close to his chest, resting his chin on her head as he looked out into the misty distance, willing himself to stay strong.

"I'm going to come back for you," James whispered into her ear, his voice barely audible over the soft rain, "I promise you."

"How can you promise something like that?" Lily murmured hopelessly, tearing herself away from his shoulder and boring into his eyes, "God knows where you'll be, what circumstances you'll encounter…who you'll meet-"

"I don't think I'll ever meet another girl like you," James' expression faltered, betraying his passionate emotions; Lily looked up into his blandiloquent, rain-spattered face, fear and vulnerability swimming in her chiaroscuro-colored eyes, "You've awoken me to life, Lily—before you I didn't dream, I didn't laugh, and most of all I didn't care. There is a world outside of my aristocratic one, and I'll be damned if I let it go to hell."

"You don't need to save it, James! In your world you are _protected_." Lily pronounced clearly, her bottom lip quivering as she reached for his cold hand, "_Please_."

"I care about this war because it is a part of _your_ world, the world where I found you and where I can escape to." James lowered his eyes to the ground and took a deep breath, meeting Lily's distraught stare with a small smile, "Where I can laugh, where I can spend an entire evening on a beach with you in my arms."

Lily let an agonizing sob escape from her lips and covered her face with her hands, James drawing her into his chest again, his fingers entwining with her wet hair, "Please understand I'm not leaving you…I'm trying to protect you."

The rain suddenly stopped, a hush falling over the landscape as the clouds thinned and the sun, a cynosure of light, cast a dark pink shadow over the orchard. James encompassed Lily's fragile figure with his powerful arms, the two huddled on the ground against a tree; they were grappling each other as if it were the last time they'd ever see one another.

Daylight was slowly becoming evanescent—they didn't have much more time.

"You're really doing this." Lily whispered softly, opening her eyes tiredly and listening to James' heart beating in his chest; it was hard to swallow the realization.

"Will you wait for me?" James inquired quietly, dipping his head and lightly kissing Lily's neck, one hand around her back and the other lowering the skinny strap to her dress, causing her to shiver.

Lily shuddered and let out a quiet moan, tears beginning to form again in her eyes; James pulled away, apologetic that he had somehow made her cry, but Lily comforted him by offering him a watery smile; "I'll wait for you."

"Knowing that will get me through this war," James whispered gently, fleetingly capturing Lily's lips with his, then slowly ascending to his feet, his eyes passionate behind his spectacles, "but now I must go—Sirius will be wondering where I've disappeared to."

"Be careful," Lily barely mustered, letting James kiss her forehead and his hand slip out of hers when he turned, determined to leave without crying, "and…James?"

"Yes Lily?" he asked resolutely, turning to the beautiful girl dressed in a mud-strained dress; he was tempted to close the distance between them again and wrap his arms around her.

"If the military has many men like you in it, we're sure to win this war." Lily breathed, her eyes dry and crystalline, mysteriously sparkling in the crimson light and seeming wiser than before.

"I'll be back for you, Lily Evans," James momentarily smiled, it quickly fading as he resolutely turned his back and headed toward the forest to find a safe place to apparate, the image of Lily burned into the back of his mind.

Lily watched his retreating figure disappear into the foliage and collapsed to the ground again, despair washing over her and feeling much colder than the rain.

_Love will remain a mystery  
But give me your hand and you will see  
Your heart is keeping time with me

* * *

_

Author's Notes

Happy holidays everybody! I know many of you won't realize I've posted because you're so befuddled with time off from school, but I thought I'd post anyway! This is my gift to you—it's taken me _a lot_ of time, research, and effort to write, it being a pivotal chapter; I hope you liked it and will reward me with your **reviews**! Last chapter disappointed me a bit with the lack of reviews, containing both constructive criticism and pleasure/displeasure—I urge you to tell me what you think! You've no idea how much it **motivates me** to write more and quicker at that! Any Questions? I'd be glad to answer if they don't give away too much!

Help me to keep this story going strong with your reviews, and most of all have a **wonderfu**l holiday! (I don't know about anybody else, but Order of the Phoenix on DVD was on my Christmas list!!)

P.S. What do you think will happen to James? What about Lily? That was a sad chapter, eh?

-prattyprongsprincesse

(All lyrics from the song _Brighter than Sunshine_ by Aqualung)


	11. Chapter 11

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 11- Revelations

_July 9, 1940_

Lily couldn't breathe. She raced down the hallway, her lips quivering and her eyes strewn with abashed, panicked tears; paintings and sculptures blurred around her as if they had been freshly painted and left out in the rain, the colours morphing together and shapes becoming indistinguishable.

Lily launched herself up the stairs, climbing higher and higher, and then down the creaky hallway toward the small room that led to the attic. She whipped the door open, almost taking it off its hinges, and entered the quiet space, suddenly forlorn. For a moment she stood confused, her face splotched with tear marks and one of her shoes missing, but then regained her focus.

Lily mounted the stairs to her bedroom in the attic and slammed the door shut, a strangled sob emitting from her lips as she slid against the wall to the ground in a distraught heap. She was sure any minute the walls would restrict around her and swallow her whole, if they hadn't already.

Roxanne was gone, sent away by her parents to a boarding school somewhere in the United States. Most of the girls at St. Madeline's were gone now, evacuated out of a potential war zone by their rich parents. It wasn't safe anymore, not even with soldiers patrolling the streets and warning sirens ready to cry; yet Lily remained, alone in a world on the brink of chaos.

Anger and sadness welled inside her like a wild fire, burning in her chest and then spreading throughout the rest of her body like an infectious disease. Her body wracked with uncontrollable sobs as she sat there, scrunched in a ball in the middle of the cold floor, surrounded by nothing by emptiness. Silence rang in her ears, more deafening than the shrillest of screams, and she struggled to breathe through her nostrils.

It was unbearable to think Roxanne was gone, and the more Lily thought about it, the harder she made herself cry. She'd convinced herself that her suffering was the greatest, greater than anyone's. How could anyone be in as much pain as she was at that moment?

Unbeknownst to Lily, the floorboards around her violently quaking body began to splinter as if put under a great deal of pressure; the sheets on her bed began to silently singe, the edges curling and turning black as if they'd been set aflame. The beams supporting the ceiling rumbled suddenly, years of settled dust floating to the cracking floor.

Lily couldn't control her fevered shaking or the tears of agony that spilled from her eyes. The room was roaring and rupturing with anger and grief, literally cleaving itself in two, but she did not notice, too removed from reality. Lily felt helpless to the powerful emotions dominating her and closing around her throat.

She felt like Alice, the poor girl that had tumbled through the looking glass into Wonderland—a perverted and bizarre place where smirking cats and shrewd abominations of nature poked and prodded at the vulnerable and lonely. Everywhere she looked she saw her own reflection, distorted and deformed, clawing against the mirror she had fallen through.

In a fit of despair and uncharacteristic rage, Lily wrenched the golden locket she wore without fail from around her neck, snapping the chain, and chucked it as hard as she could at the floor. As she let out a gut-wrenching sob and slowly backed against the wall, her eyes closed and her body weak, Lily did not notice the locket open as it crashed to the floor and the glass inside smash. As if the cork of a bottle had been loosened, the two pictures of Lily's parents disappeared in a burst of yellow smoke, leaving behind an empty golden shell.

The locket...it was a symbol of love, a representation of her parents' love for her. It was a piece of jewellery that had been found around her neck when she had been left on the doorstep of a London orphanage, the only thing linking Lily to her past. She'd just been a toddler when she was abandoned, left in the cold to become someone else's problem. Had Lily been deluding herself with thoughts that her parents had _loved_ her?

How could any parent abandon their child...how could she have ever fathomed that they loved her?

Lily felt stupid and overwhelmed with loneliness. The only people she'd come to love were Roxanne and James...both of whom were gone from her life. It wasn't likely she'd ever see Roxanne again, and James...what if he...

_Am I tainted? Why am I not worthy enough to love? Even my own parents didn't want me... _

Then, as quickly as rage and anguish had filled her up and spilled forth, it stopped. It was as if all the energy had suddenly been sucked out of her and had escaped through the broken window above her bed. Her shaking began to cease, replaced with blurred vision and a burning sensation in her throat. Lily limply collapsed onto her elbows from her sitting position, her mess of hair soon cradled on the floor. Tremendous fatigue washed over her, causing her mind to clear and her eyes to close.

_Why can't I remember their faces anymore?_

The room stopped shaking, eased into stillness just as the redhead had been eased into unconsciousness.

* * *

The Hogwarts grounds were shrouded in darkness, opaque clouds obscuring the crescent curvature of the moon, the only source of light. A buoyant, marshy mist hovered just above the petrichor-smelling lawns blanketing the castle grounds and a temperate wind blew through the brambles in the Forbidden forest, making it subtly sway. Apart from the occasional howl from the woods or shriek from the owlery, the locale was quiet and undisturbed.

Strangely enough, the ancient castle, which was tucked away in a remote valley, did not seem out of place in the Scottish setting. The cold stone was as natural as the lake and crumbling hills that surrounded it; all whom crossed its noble threshold could never fathom it not being there. The spectacular building was a sight to behold—though not visible to muggles—and warmed the hearts of students and teachers alike. Even immersed in the wet gloom it looked inviting.

It was in one of the tallest turrets, second only to the Astronomy tower in size, that a weathered-looking man in violent purple robs paced about an egg-shaped office strewn with spinning and smoking instrumentation. He had a long colorless beard that was matted with rain, suggesting he had been travelling, and half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of his crooked nose. Despite his visible frailty—which was evident in his bony hands—his blue eyes spoke of cleverness and vigilance. Tonight, however, they were murky in thought.

Suddenly, a knock sounded on the office door, alerting Professor Albus Dumbledore that his expected visitors had arrived. Side-glancing his shelf of instrumentation, the wizened professor settled into a chair and politely folded his hands on the top of his desk, "Please enter."

Three wizards, all vastly unique in appearance, penetrated the richly decorated office and immediately took seats in the olive, high-backed chairs placed before Dumbledore's rectangular desk.

The first, newly penned Mad-Eye Moody because of his dishevelled features and blue, magical eye, wore a shabby leather overcoat, thick boots and an unmistakable glower. To his right sat his powerful counterpart, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had dark skin, a bald head and broad shoulders, while to his left sat Lord Frank Longbottom, a young, handsome wizard that stood out because of his esteemed title. All three were Aurors, dark-wizard catchers and protectors of justice; more importantly, they were all in the Order of the Phoenix.

"I appreciate the three of you coming on such short notice. Dumbledore began smoothly, his characteristic smile—a smile that spoke of confidence and unspoken secrets—upturning his withered lips, "I do apologize for the late hour, but an urgent matter of importance has just come to my attention. It must be dealt with immediately."

Moody grunted and straightened in his chair, his magical eye whizzing around in the socket and his normal eye, almost chatoyant**,** crinkled in skepticism, "Why is it you haven't called an Order meeting then, eh? Why are the three of us the only to hear of this?"

Dumbledore blinked at Moody's gruffness, but the smile on his lined face did not falter, "The Order shall know of this matter in time. Until I build upon my original plan, I think it best that only a few people be trusted with it. I will ask the three of you to regard what I am about to tell you as top-secret."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, looking mildly intrigued, but only Frank Longbottom, who was a good twenty years younger than the rest of the wizards in the room, looked stunned to be depended upon by Dumbledore with information of such magnitude.

"Does this have anything to do with the war?" Kingsley inquired in a deep, masculine voice, articulating the question both Moody and Frank were mulling over, "Has Churchill _finally_ agreed to let us—"

"This has nothing to do with the muggle war; rather, it concerns Voldermort and the inevitable wizarding war," Dumbledore grimly interjected, closing his eyes and pausing for just a moment; he unexpectedly pulled an unmoving photograph from one of the drawers in his desk and turned it so his confidants could see, "Alastor, Kingsley…perhaps you remember Marquis Everard?"

Depicted in the black and white picture, the edges curling with age, was a blissful-looking couple in front of an opulent manor with gingerbread trim. The male, Marquis, was tall and slim, a bushy moustache bristling under his nose and a bowler hat atop his head. His eyes were smiling and he had an arm around his petit wife, Esmeralda, who was delicately cradling an infant dressed in lacy swaddling clothes.

"I went to school with Marquis Everard. Kingsley began slowly, his eyebrows crinkled in uncertainty, "He was a nice bloke, his family was well-off. Wasn't his father—?"

"Emmett Everard, a former headmaster at Hogwarts." Dumbledore affirmed, the twinkle seeping back into his blue eyes, "That's his estate in the background of the picture. The Everard bloodline is almost as infamous as the Black and Malfoy bloodlines. Marquis was the last male heir in the Everard line, as I found out many years ago."

"What ever happened to him? I don't think I've seen or heard of him in years." Kingsley continued, wondering how an old school friend factored into the impending wizarding war, "Last I heard he was causing his pureblood family grief by marrying a muggle—I think her name was Esmeralda."

"They did in fact marry, despite Marquis being threatened with disinheritance. Dumbledore smiled at the thought of such scandal, "Not many in this day and age would dare go against their family, never mind back then, but Marquis did and he remained heir to the pure bloodline, which was besmirched with the birth of his half-blood daughter."

Yet again Frank Longbottom, the only pureblood wizard in the room, seemed alarmed by the story, "How did Headmaster Everard treat Marquis thereafter? I mean, he not only disobeyed his family, he compromised the bloodline…"

"Though I do not have all the facts, I am confident in one thing: Emmett Everard loved his son unconditionally." Dumbledore replied, expecting such a reaction from Frank, "It is my belief that the love Headmaster Everard had for his son is the reason his grandchild is still alive today."

For once, Alastor Moody had been caught off guard; his mind was working so quickly, trying to piece the story together, he hadn't time to voice all of his questions. The three Aurors remained quiet, yearning for Dumbledore to go on instead of delaying him with their comments.

"Though Marquis married a muggle, his father did not disinherit him or banish him from the Everard manor. Instead, he let Marquis live in his house with his wife, and when his half-blood granddaughter was born, he rejoiced. I always thought Emmett was born well before his time." Dumbledore mused, pausing momentarily as if he were reminiscing days spent with the headmaster, "I was much younger when he was headmaster at Hogwarts, teaching Transfiguration between travelling and researching. He confided many things concerning his family to me.

It was curious to me, then, considering how Headmaster Everard loved his son and grandchild, that he did not mourn when Marquis and his little family tragically died when the Everard manor burnt to the ground."

Silence followed Dumbledore's words, though Moody nodded his head in understanding and a grave dawning spread over Kingsley's features, "Yes…I remember now. That happened almost twenty years ago…I'd completely forgotten about Marquis…"

"It happened precisely sixteen years ago, Kingsley." Dumbledore corrected softly, taking the photograph with one aged hand and scanning it nostalgically, "It was highly publicized in the _Prophet_. There was even a funeral, though no bodies were found in the wreckage to fill the caskets."

He paused again; Moody's eye swivelled back and forth from Dumbledore's wrinkled face to the tattered photograph, "What does Marquis Everard have to do with anything, Dumbledore?"

"He has to do with _everything_, Alastor," Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes sharpening, "Now, shall I continue?

As you all know, after Headmaster Everard _I_ became headmaster of Hogwarts. It was shortly after the death of his son that Headmaster Everard fell ill and died; I always wondered if it was out of silent grief, which he never voiced. I was friends with Emmett, and after the death of his son he never mentioned his name again.

Everything about the Everards struck me as odd, though I seemed to be the only one perturbed. I had taught Marquis at Hogwarts when Armando Dippet was headmaster, and he was exceptionally bright, receiving excellent O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S. I wondered how he could've possibly died in a fire when he knew so many spells and charms that could've easily saved him.

So, when he died, I decided I'd curb my curiosity—which I had kept from Headmaster Everard while he was alive—by conferencing with his portrait in my office."

The flaming embers in the felicitous fireplace shimmered orange against their coal-black counterparts, casting warm shadows on the opposite wall, which was filled with portraits of sleeping men and women who had previously presiding over Hogwarts school. There was Phineas Nigellus Black, wearing a dark cloak with his eyes shut (though any who knew him would be aware that he was secretly awake and listening), Dexter Fortescue with his rusting ear trumpet resting in his lap, Dilys Derwent, and lastly Armando Dippet, who was snoring softly.

It was Frank Longbottom who first noticed a portrait missing, "Where is Headmaster Everard's portrait? Shouldn't his be right after Armando Dippet's?"

"Excellent eye, Frank." Dumbledore beamed proudly at the young wizard, suddenly rising to his feet and wandering toward the door; the three wizards stared at him curiously, "I wondered the same thing when I first began using this office. I was so eager to get answers, but it appeared Everard did not have a portrait like all of his predecessors and I would be left to wonder…but I was wrong."

Dumbledore stopped by the ochre door, flanked by two red, fringed window panels, and pulled one of the gold-threaded cords. Two things happened: the red curtains swept aside to reveal bare wall on both sides of the door, and the stone wall opened like a window on each side of the door, sliding back to reveal two muddy canvasses.

"_Whoa_." Frank Longbottom breathed inaudibly, his eyes fixed on the two portraits, along with Kingsley and Mad-Eye.

In one canvass sat the former headmaster, Emmett Everard, whose alert eyes were open and instantaneously widened at the sight of Moody, Kingsley and Longbottom. He wore an unusual cobalt hat and had a short, stubby beard that extended from his chin up to his ears.

In the other canvass stood two stunning people, a man and a woman, who looked as if they had just broken away from whispering secrets in each other's ears. They were an older version of the smiling couple in the picture Dumbledore had previously passed around, though the man was now clean shaven. They too were frozen in disbelief.

"What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?" the portrait of Headmaster Everard demanded, his tone less-than polite and his eyes panicked, "I trust you with the life of my granddaughter and ask for your silence and you bring _these three_ here?"

"You and I both know I cannot execute such a plan on my own, Emmett." Dumbledore replied calmly, as if he hadn't been scolded by the portrait, "Each of these wizards, who I might add are trained Aurors and Order of the Phoenix members, will play a crucial role in protecting your granddaughter."

Moody and Kingsley shared confused looks, while Frank look stupefied; Dumbledore continued to reason with the previous headmaster, "I am doing my best to enlighten them on your family's past so that they may fully understand the importance of our situation."

Headmaster Everard looked unconvinced and side-glanced the portrait housing his son and daughter-in-law; Marquis shared a meaningful look with his father and turned his regal stare toward Dumbledore, "Whatever you think is best, Headmaster. Esmeralda and I trust that you will do everything in your power to protect our daughter."

Dumbledore smiled at Marquis approvingly, then turned back to the three befuddled wizards, "Please, gentlemen, take your seats and I will continue the story."

Dumbledore kept the curtains drawn as he settled behind his desk once more, winking briefly at an awed Frank "As you can see, I did manage to find Everard's portrait, though it was weeks after I took office. He was quite surprised when I did, for he intended to reveal himself when the timing was right.

At first he was reluctant to tell me anything, preferring to leave the portrait or ignore my very personal questions. It wasn't until a year later, when the other empty portrait he had hidden filled with the images of his son and daughter-in-law that he decided to include me in his secret plot.

As you all know, a portrait cannot be filled with the image of a person until the time of their death. So, as you can imagine, it was interesting that Marquis and Esmeralda did not appear in their portrait until years after Everards death."

"Are you saying that Marquis and Esmeralda didn't die in that fire?" Kingsley Shacklebolt inquired hesitantly, stealing another look over his shoulder at their portrait.

"Precisely." Dumbledore declared slowly, the firelight reflecting on his glasses, "Headmaster Everard did not mourn the death of his family because he was the only one who knew they were still alive. Now, this is where the story gets interesting."

This time Dumbledore pulled out a flat stone basin that fit in the palm of his hand and deposited it on the desk before the three wizards. Closing his eyes and pointing his wand to his temple, a thin silvery substance slithered out of his head and weightlessly floated into the basin.

When Dumbledore pulled his wand away, the wispy matter condensed and began to form into the tiny figure of a woman. The outline of her body was slightly blurry, but the Aurors could still make out her striking translucent features, such as her bulbous eyes, which looked lifeless, and her frizzy hair. Dumbledore's eyes were transfixed on the woman, who suddenly started to talk in a distant, spine-chilling voice…

_Born of muggle and magic  
both the halflings of dynasties pure  
One with the gift of serpent speech  
the other, courage and will to endure_

_The first, older and hungry  
will rise with dark power  
The second, young and blooming  
will vanquish him in time's bleakest hour_

_Not because of her strength  
nor the emerald in her eye  
instead because of her royal marriage  
and the baby born nigh_

The diaphanous figure of the seer swirled upwards and evaporated across the ceiling after the cryptic prophecy was uttered. The three Aurors, who had stiffened when the creepy voice sounded, were fixated on Dumbledore, their eyes hungry for an explanation of the esoteric speech.

"I'm sure you've all heard of Cassandra Trelawney, the esteemed seer?" Dumbledore pronounced more than inquired, his blue eyes sharpening as he continued, "She recited this prophecy almost twenty years ago, around the time Voldermort began recruiting death eaters. Cassandra had been in Hogsmeade to visit two of her old friends; Emmett Everard, headmaster of Hogwarts, and Igor Karkaroff, headmaster of Durmstrang."

"_Karkaroff_?" Mad-Eye demanded angrily, a scowl forming on his gnarled face, "We've got him waiting in Azkaban for a Wizengamot trial. He's suspected of being a death eater, the _scum_."

"I'm glad you mentioned that," Dumbledore said curtly, then continued, "As I was saying, both Everard and Karkaroff heard the chilling prophecy. Everard told no one of it, never one to believe in divination, but Karkaroff did. I am unsure if Karkaroff had already become a death eater and immediately informed Voldermort himself, or if the information was just passed along. Regardless, Voldermort found out about the prophecy.

As I'm sure the three of you have deduced, he is the first "halfing" mentioned. Descended of the pure Slytherin dynasty, though his father was a muggle, Voldermort was rising at the time and could converse in parseltongue.

Naturally, he believed he was the first halfling of the prophecy and became obsessed with the other halfling, who was purported to bore the child that would one day vanquish him. So, the hunt was on."

Alastor Moody's eyes were nearly bulging from his skull; Kingsley Shacklebolt was gripping the arms of his chair with an iron clasp; Frank's jaw looked as if it had been dislocated because his mouth was open so wide. Behind them, the portraits of the Everards looked dour.

Dumbledore was not disconcerted by the staggered looks of his associates and continued, "Voldermort had made it a priority to find a young girl fitting the prophecy's description. She is illustrated as being a half-blood like him, half of her family being revered purebloods and the other being muggle, "blooming" and having "emerald" eyes. He therefore had his patrician death eaters keep a close eye on the rest of the magical nobility.

Then, a year after the prophecy was professed, a scandal in the Everard family; the heir to the name and fortune, Marquis, marries a muggle."

"And they have a daughter…" Frank whispered, his amber eyes aflame with understanding as he mirrored Dumbledore's penetrating expression.

"Mere weeks after the baby was born, Emmett was tipped off by his old friend Cassandra that Voldermort was interested in his grandchild and planned to kidnap her," Dumbledore explained, his mouth moving quickly beneath his overflowing facial hair, "for you see, she was born from a pureblood and a muggle with the greenest pair of eyes I've ever seen, and she was named Lily, after the flower, or _bloom_.

Headmaster Everard had barely given the prophecy he heard so long ago another thought, but when he recalled it he could not ignore how perfectly his baby granddaughter fit the description. He immediately set to ensuring the safety of his family.

With their daughter, Marquis and Esmeralda went into hiding and Emmett set his family-owned manor on fire, reporting that his family had perished in it to cover their tracks."

"It all makes sense now…" Kingsley whispered, his eyes suddenly darting to the portrait housing Marquis and Esmeralda, "but you said Marquis and his wife appeared in their portrait almost a year after you became headmaster, meaning they must have died a few years after going into hiding?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Voldermort was not fooled by the fire. It took him a few years, but he tracked the Everards down. They were hiding in Poland, waiting for word that Voldermort had been apprehended before they returned to England. They had faith that their daughter wasn't the only one with the ability to stop him; but, alas, they were both found."

"What happened to the baby? Was she killed too?" Moody gruffly asked, though from the conversation Dumbledore had had with Everard's portrait he gathered she wasn't.

"No. Near the end Marquis sensed they were being followed and knew they would soon be exposed, so he made preparations to hide his daughter where Voldermort wouldn't think of finding her." Dumbledore explained efficiently, "She was sent to a poor orphanage in London where she would remain until she was old enough to attend a private school. They decided to send her to an expensive etiquette school in the hopes that she would be integrated into the aristocracy and procure a baby from a _royal_ marriage as the prophecy mentioned she would.

It's been nearly eighteen years, and Voldermort has still not found the child."

"Voldermort didn't torture them or feed them veritaserum to figure out where they'd sent the baby?" Kingsley inquired sceptically, slightly awed that the Everards had kept their daughter hidden, "Surely he had the means."

"Oh, Marquis and Esmeralda were certainly tortured," Dumbledore spoke softly, his voice beginning to sound tired, "but Marquis wiped both his and his wife's memory of their child so, no matter the means, Voldermort would never find out where they had sent Lillian Everard.

Of course, in death, Marquis appeared in his portrait and revealed to his father where he and Esmeralda had sent her, but it was not until tonight that I was informed as well."

"Why weren't you informed at _once_?" Moody growled automatically, looking ready to rise from his chair, "If the girl that is prophesized to save us all from the Dark Lord is alive, she should be under the Order's _constant_ _protection_! How do you even know she's still alive if no one has been to check on her?"

"If you'd let me finish," Dumbledore said quietly, blinking at the red-faced man, "Marquis charmed a locket that he fastened around his daughter's neck when he sent her to the orphanage. It has two purposes: one, to conceal any magic that may take place around her from those whom are also magical, and two, to act as a means to watch her from their portrait."

"So Marquis and Esmeralda can see what she's doing right now?" Frank looked shocked at the prospect.

"They can only see and magically protect Lily when she is wearing the locket, which she hasn't been doing regularly for the past couple months," Dumbledore explained, "but tonight, while wearing the locket, she went into…let us say a magical fit…and she smashed it. She broke the charm, so she is no longer magically concealed and we cannot keep an eye on her.

After conferencing with Emmett, Marquis and Esmeralda have decided it is no longer safe to keep Lily at her school, where she has recently been displaying uncontrollable magic. It will not be long before Voldermort finds and kills her."

Frank looked defiant at the possibility, "We won't let that happen. That's why you've called us here, isn't it, Dumbledore? We're going to find her a new hiding spot and keep her protected."

"In a fashion, yes," Dumbledore began, folding his hands and sighing, the three Order members looking determined due to the prospect of such an imperative assignment, "It will be our mission to kidnap her before Voldermort does. My plan is for you three to see her safely to a small cottage on Windermere Lake, where she will stay until I personally move her to Hogwarts for the summer. We set out tomorrow morning to take her away and erase all traces that she ever attended St. Madeline's School for Girls."

The room plunged into silence, Dumbledore's long tale more dire and serious than the professional Aurors had anticipated. This witch, Lily, was the catalyst to ending the war with Voldermort…a simple girl who had no idea she was a witch or that she was being hunted by the most dangerous dark wizard the world had ever seen. She was oblivious to the sacrifice and planning that had gone into her protection, as well as her prophesized fate.

* * *

_Hours later…_

The streets outside were still; no jostled movement or streaks of brilliant light disturbed the muddy canvass that was night. It was uncomfortably hot—the kind of hot that caused annoying perspiration and feverish mutterings—which made sleeping near unbearable. A nasty heat wave had washed over London with the commencement of summer, bringing with it sporadic bouts of thunderous rain and a general feeling of unease. Many didn't dare go outside, the humidity insufferable and fear causing most to feel insecure; London was quickly becoming a ghost town.

There was no evidence of a breeze, no evidence of mischievous human activity, and no evidence of life existing beyond the grimy and broken window in the attic.

Then, two pronounced **pops** echoed over the landscape, sudden and unnatural. They were loud enough to awaken the sleeping redhead, who had opened her eyes to discover herself sprawled on the floor in the middle of the attic. When Lily groggily pushed herself up and focused her emerald eyes, she noticed her destroyed locket lying in a mass of shattered glass. She picked the trinket up, disoriented, the cool chain slinking between her fingers like running water.

With a wave of reluctant misery, Lily realized the black and white pictures of her parents had gone. How could it be? She searched the hardwood for small bits of paper, running her hands along the floor and cutting her knuckles on the broken glass, but she found nothing in the mess.

"...there's an apparition charm on the school. We'll have to go up through the front door."

Lily momentarily stopped her search, deep voices drifting from the school grounds up to her window. Her crystalline eyes sharpened as she got up from the floor, forgetting the locket as she stealthily shifted toward the window like a snake over water, making sure to keep herself hidden.

Two cloaked figures lingered near the grand oak tree planted awkwardly in the middle of the school lawn, both holding long, spindly looking instruments. They remained shadowed and inconspicuous, both talking in deliberate tones, unbeknownst to Lily's calculated eavesdropping. She was unsettled; not because both figures seemed tall and broad, their voices deep and purposeful, but because of the chilling white masks that hid their faces. Lily couldn't imagine why two grown men would be lurking on the grounds in _Halloween_ costumes; however, from their private conversation, Lily gathered they had more than child's play in mind.

"How are we supposed to know which girl it is?"

"Whichever one displays magical ability...we'll have to check each one and Obliviate them after."

"What's the plan if she puts up a fight? Stun her?"

"From what the Dark Lord says she won't have a wand...it should be effortless."

Lily recoiled as one of the figure's heads intuitively tilted toward her open window, flinging herself against the wall and out of sight. Her heart rapidly pounded in her chest as she covered her mouth with her hand, terrified that the strangers would hear her sharp breathing.

The two figures did not see her, instead treading the mushy grass and heading for the front door of the brick school.

"The doors locked." one of the strangers announced stupidly, trying the handle.

"Are you or are you not a _wizard_?" the more authoritative figure spat viciously, "_Alohomora_!"

Lily froze, chills inching up her spine and causing panic to well in her stomach. They'd gotten into the school without a key...

Their strange conversation reeled in Lily's head, playing over and over again like a broken record. These two men spoke of wizards and wands and a Dark Lord... It sounded like the rubbish that made up children's fairytales...

Then Lily remembered the letter she'd received over a month ago, a letter stating that _she_ was a witch...

Suddenly a crash sounded from downstairs, followed by the muffled cursing of, Lily guessed, the stupider of the two masked men. Lily hadn't a clue what they were doing, but she instinctively knew it wasn't good. They spoke of finding a girl...a girl with _magical ability_...and obliviating all those who did not. What did _obliviate_ and _stun_ mean? By the tone of their voices, it didn't sound positive.

The hair on the back of Lily's neck reared like a frightened cat's when the nearby staircase creaked under pounding footsteps. Her mouth went dry, fear formulating behind her pupils.

Scrambling, Lily dropped to her knees and pocketed her locket, the only possession she valued. Her eyes flitted about the room, looking for a way out, and just as she decided upon leaving the attic and finding another room to hide in, Lily heard the intruders, clear as day, outside of her room.

"We'll both endure the _torture curse_ for this." the sulky, smaller man hissed fearfully as he collapsed into a chair in the room outside the attic, "There's nothing magical here as far as I can tell."

"_Homenum Revelio_." the sharper man said silkily, a pause following his strange, elegant words, "I wouldn't give up so quickly, Wilkes. There is another person nearby...check the attic, _now_."

Lily froze, stricken with fear as she covered her mouth with her hands, bile threatening to spill from her throat onto the floor. The only escape was out the window, but there was no way she climb out soundlessly or fast enough. She was trapped.

The bulkier of the two men clambered up the stairs of the attic—a mask still plastered on his face—and tried the handle of the attic door. It was locked, but instead of skilfully picking it open like a normal burglar, he muttered something under his breath that caused the door to open on its own.

_Please God, make me_ _invisible_. _Make me invisible so I can survive this_.

The two cloaked men entered the barren room and shut the door, taking in its old, frazzled appearance. The bed was unmade, the sheets astray and singed at the edges, a large fissure ran down the middle of the splintered floor, the windows were broken, and shattered glass coated every surface. It looked like a tornado had blown through.

"She was most certainly here…" the tall man whispered, his voice laced with danger as he carefully walked to the middle of the room, glass menacingly crunching under his shoes. Each footstep made Lily's heart palpitate faster, "Check under the bed, the wardrobe and the trunk."

The other man did as he was told, even popping his head outside the window. It wasn't until a sliver of light fell upon Lily's face when knobby fingers appeared beneath the lid of the trunk, lifting it upwards, that she fearfully closed her eyes and stopped breathing, afraid to see the figure's triumphant smile. She could feel his warm, stinking breath on her neck; hear the intensity of his dog-like panting.

But Lily did not hear his satisfied chuckle or feel him roughly pull her by the arms out of the trunk in which she hid and present her to his malevolent partner. Instead, as if by some miracle, he idly closed the trunk lid and continued searching the room for her.

"There's no one here, the charm must just be picking up the other girls in the school." the portly man explained in annoyance, stopping his search, "Perhaps she climbed out the window before we arrived…"

"The Dark Lord will not be pleased. He expected to have the girl by tonight. He has been waiting for a long time." the other man said more to himself than his companion, scooping up a piece of glass in his ashen hand and examining its reflective surface, "We shall take care of this tomorrow morning. We'll have the nuns hand her over to us, and no one will even notice her missing."

The two hooded men swept out of the room and slammed the door shut behind them, leaving the attic in a tomblike silence. Lily could hear them ambling down the stairs.

It wasn't until their voices ceased sounding on the grounds and two strident **pops **echoed that Lily dared lift the lid of the small trunk and peer out. Her heart was in her throat, her stomach twisted into knots when she shakily climbed out and crept toward the window to see the grounds void of the terrifying intruders.

"How did they not see me?" Lily whispered softly, her unfocused eyes staring out into the night as reason and curiosity began to tame her instinctive fear, "I was an arms-length away..."

A thought occurred to Lily, the most imaginative and illogical she'd dreamt in awhile. She was scared to turn around and look at her face in the mirror, though she wasn't sure if that was because what she imagined was true or because it couldn't be true.

All her life she'd struggled to define herself, to figure out what made her special and set her apart from others. She could immodestly admit that she was wittier than most, much bolder than most girls her age and that her eyes were the greenest she'd ever seen...but that wasn't enough. She'd always _felt_ different, like an alien among her peers; the feeling was both terrifying and comforting.

Lily yearned to be set apart from others not because of her lack of wealth or due to her orphan status, but because of _who_ she was and what she could accomplish. It was, however, very hard for her to figure out whom she really was when her past was lost along with her parents.

Lily mustered the courage to look over her shoulder into the dusty mirror opposite her bed. The image that met her made her gasp, realization spreading throughout her newly-energized body. It affirmed what she thought, and despite the trauma of the night, a smile flitted across her face.

She was invisible.

Lilt got up off her bed and walked closer to the mirror, her reflection absent from the reflective glass. Her wonder-filled eyes softened as a novel feeling coursed through her body and filled her with newborn possibilities—possibilities which momentarily distracted her from her harsh, scary reality.

"I'm a… _witch_." Lily murmured in awe, running her fingertips along the cool glass of the mirror and examining her transparent hands.

She stood in front of the mirror for nearly a half an hour, motionless, frozen as if she had sprouted roots that had grown through the floorboards. She pinched herself multiple times, but she was not sleeping.

Later she quietly crept back into her trunk and shut the heavy lid in case the masked men returned. She began forming a plan for the next morning.

* * *

The corridors in St. Madeline's were quiet; the students who remained there were still in bed, as well as many of the nuns. Only the cooks and maids were awake, but they remained busy in the kitchens or the dining hall, preparing for breakfast. Streams of blue light poured through the glass doors at the front of the school, making dust swirl in the illuminated beams that kissed the floors, while the soft pitter-patter of rain sounded on the front stoop, mingling with the gentle rumble of thunder.

The basement door creaked open and Lily Evans stepped out, having ducked in previously because one of the morning maids had turned down the hallway she was occupying. When she was certain the coast was clear, Lily stepped back out into the hall and made for Sister Agatha's office, her school pumps clicking all the way.

The double doors, stained a deep mahogany with bulbous brass handles, loomed before Lily like the doors of a prison cell. Etched on the golden plate mounted on the entrance was _Sister Agatha_, _Headmistress_. Lily pressed her ear to the door to check if anyone was inside, and when she heard no sound, she began picking the gritty lock with one of her hair pins.

A _click_ reverberated down the hall and one of the gilded doors opened.

Lily slinked into Agatha's office and quietly closed the door behind her, praying had been undetected. When she turned to take in the décor of the office, Lily noticed it was just as Agatha had left it; shadowed, with the curtains shut, smelling strongly of lemon oil and barren. Lily felt a nervous sensation in her belly as she pierced the room, for she felt a set of eyes on the back of her head, watching her every move.

Brushing away the uneasy feeling, Lily paced behind Agatha's polished desk and pulled open the largest drawer filled with student files. Lily's hand brushed over multiple names, her eyes momentarily stopping to nostalgically take in the name of her best friend, until it paused.

Lily's heart stopped as a cold feeling crept up her arms and fizzled at her finger tips. Her file, which she'd plucked from the drawer to examine, was _empty_. Her name, once written in perfect cursive, now read _Anna-Lily_ _Pevans_.

"What…?" Lily whispered as panic welled in her extraordinary eyes.

Lily realized that not only had someone found her file and stolen all the information inside of it, they'd also altered her name. Whoever had beaten Lily to finding her file had seen to it that she appeared to have never attended St. Madeline's. It was her intention to destroy the file herself, but someone had done it for her…

Just then a slip of paper fluttered out of the file she presumed to be empty and landed near her feet. Lily scooped up the page and knelt behind Agatha's desk to read it.

_Anna-Lily Pevans_

_Birthday: June 5, 1922_

_Parents: Arthur and Leigh Pevans_

Current Location: Australia until the war is over…

The sheet continued to provide information concerning Anna-Lily, including her banking expenses and grades—all of which were made up, for there was no student with such a name at St. Madeline's. Whoever had stolen her file and replaced it with faulty information had gone to a lot of trouble to do so…

Lily placed the sheet back into the vandalized file and closed the drawer, supposing it would do no good to steal it. She didn't quite know how to feel about it. The only people Lily supposed could've done it were the masked men that broke in last night looking for her…but when she overheard them talking they didn't seem to know her name. If so, how could they know which file was hers? Did they take her file to ensure that there would be no information to give the police when the nuns reported her missing?

The more she thought about it, the more it scared her. Just as Lily got up from the floor to leave, the brass handle began to turn—as if in slow motion—and three voices sounded behind the door. The hot blood in her veins turned to ice as she looked about the room for a hiding spot.

"Please gentlemen, come in," a large woman beckoned politely, opening the door to the office and gesturing for the two business-like men that followed her to sit in the chairs before the desk, "Shall I have one of the maids fetch some tea?"

"No. We would like to get down to business straightaway."

Lily nearly choked; _Sister Agatha_, the person she hated most in the entire world, had returned to school just in time for her grand escape.

Even more disturbing, so had the two masked men.

Two gentlemen followed Sister Agatha, who appeared to have gotten larger on sick leave, into her office, both dressed in formal black suits. One, who Lily instantly recognized because of his malicious, hushed voice, had slick blonde hair that draped down his back and a snobbish disposition. His transparent gray eyes coldly scrutinized every detail and he impatiently tapped the floor with an odd artefact; a black cane with the silver head of a fang-bearing snake. In contrast, the other man was shorter and plumper with round watery eyes and a receding hairline.

"Of course, gentlemen; let me open my filing cabinet. Shall we begin with the names of those girls who remain?" Sister Agatha asked pointedly, settling herself at her desk and moving forward in her chair.

From the view of those who entered Agatha's office, the front of her desk was a solid piece of carved wood. While sitting at it her legs would never be in view. It was in the alcove where Sister Agatha's legs belonged where Lily hid; this not only prevented the masked men and Agatha from noticing her, but it also prevented her from seeing the identities of her soon-to-be captors.

Lily silently whimpered; her spine was flush with the back of the desk. Sister Agatha's pointed shoe was almost touching her leg; if she kicked it Lily would surely be exposed.

"How many girls still reside in this school, Sister?" the blonde man asked silkily, propping his cane on the nun's desk and moving forward; the pudgy man remained silent, "We, at the Bureau, need to garner an idea of how many girls we'll have to relocate to safe houses outside of England, you see…"

Sister Agatha pulled a stack of files from her desk—the same files Lily had just riffled through—and plunked them in front of the men, "I expect we have about twenty girls still here. Some parents haven't gathered their daughters yet because they haven't yet made suitable arrangements or their boats haven't landed in England. As I'm sure you two gentlemen know, the ports into Britain are heavily guarded these days—"

"This shall factor into our decision, of course. Have you any girls that won't be looked after? Perhaps because…they _haven't_ any parents? These types of girls would be our first priority…"

Lily's eyes went wide beneath the desk; _she_ was the only orphan at St. Madeline's.

"We do have one particular girl…" Sister Agatha began slowly, her voice becoming thicker and strained at the thought of Lily, "She's an orphan…an awful lot of trouble, this girl. I imagine she's the type that should be last in line to receive such protection. The other girls have wealthier families, and—,"

"What is this girl's name?" the slick man cut in sharply, ignoring Sister Agatha's protest, "I should like to meet her without delay. Where is her room?"

"The name is Lily Evans. We have limited space, you know, so she's been placed in the attic…" Sister Agatha started uncertainly, afraid the two representatives of the _National Children's Bureau_ would condemn her for such poor treatment of a student, "But really, gentlemen, I'm sure there's a better candidate—"

"She's perfect. Won't you hand me her file?" the taller man snapped, holding out his hand impatiently as the nun bit her lip and began to shuffle through the papers.

"How strange…her file doesn't appear to be here." Sister Agatha sputtered, the instantaneous rage on the man's face making her stagger blinkingly, "One of the other nuns must've taken it to another office. She's really quite a troublemaker, I'm sure they—"

"Forget the file then. Bring us up to her room at once. Don't you know we have other places to be? A bomb could drop at any moment and you're making us wait." the man demanded rashly, his disguise, like his tolerance for the muggle, beginning to shatter.

After all, he _hated_ muggles.  
_  
_"M-m-my apologies! If you will just follow me, gentlemen." the nun rose from her seat, her putrid feet still inches from Lily's face, and left the office with the two men marching in her wake.

Lily immediately sprang upwards, perspiration blanketing her forehead, and peeked over the desk. She saw the rotund man's feet disappearing up the stairs in a thunder of heavy footsteps, Agatha having left the doors to her office open, and realized it was her chance.

She had to run.

Lily jumped to her feet and looked about the room wildly. She's prepared a small bag full of bread, a few containers of water and some pound notes she'd nicked from the kitchen earlier that morning, but she hadn't thought to bring the bag with her. It wasn't her plan to escape now, but she no longer had any choice.

Beneath the bookshelf on the opposite wall was a pedestal table filled with assorted objects, one of them being a small wooden jewellery box. On the lid there were imprints of cherry blossoms outlined in gold leaf, while around the edge of the box was foreign text, perhaps Japanese.

Lily crossed the room and wrenched the box open, running her hands over the few gold chains and crosses in the first shelf before removing the top layer. As she had anticipated, in the bottom lay three stacks of paper money, bound together with elastics. Empting out the book bag that hung on the back of Agatha's chair, Lily filled it with the money and slung it over her shoulder.

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, looking down the length of the corridor outside to be sure no nuns or students were prowling about, before slipping out of the office toward the door.

Bits of diluted light filtered through the double door entrance, and once Lily reached it she threw her weight against it, making a loud thudding noise. She gulped back panic when she realized it had been locked and felt the breath leave her lungs as she reached on the tips of her toes for the manual cylinder lock near the top of the door. _Fucking common! Oh my god, oh my god, please open, please—_

"Lily Evans, I presume."

Just as the lock slid open, Lily felt a knobby hand grab her shoulder and spin her roughly around. Lily yelped, her eyes filling with terror, as she stared into the blue eyes of the stocky, brutish man that she thought had disappeared upstairs. She recognized his stinking breath from the night before and could barely choke back her alarm.

"Thinking of _running_, were you?" the bulky man laughed hoarsely, bearing his butter-coloured teeth as he menacingly grinned down at the speechless girl, "We've spent a great deal of time trying to find you, _my_ _dear_…!"

Lily made to run to the left, but both of the man's enormous hands clamped on her upper arms, rendering her motionless, "_Let me go_, _p-p-please! I'll do anything_—"

"You're a pretty thing, aren't you?" the ugly man whispered dangerously, briefly removing a hand from Lily's arm to comb it through her long hair; Lily stiffened in fright, "Such a _waste_. I do wish you were my plaything…but you know… Lucius isn't back yet…I might as well have _some_ fun with you…"

Just as the man's grimy hand slid from Lily's rouge hair to the hem of her kilt, his bulging eyes focused on her exposed legs, Lily abruptly turned the handle of the door with her free hand and threw her weight backwards, sending the door flying open and the grotesque man, who had been leaning on the wooden frame, plunging to the ground.

Squinting in the pouring rain, Lily steadied herself with the door knob and skittishly stepped around the momentarily befuddled man, breaking into a frenzied run. With her pack slung over her shoulder, Lily tried to make a mad dash for the street, wet hair obscuring her vision, but the man effortlessly caught her by the ankle with his sweaty palms. Lily screamed and tumbled to the ground, scrapping her knees and elbows, and struggled to free herself as the animalistic brute clawed at her legs and flashed his yellowing fangs.

"_LET ME GO_!" Lily screamed shrilly, fearful tears welling in her eyes as her tendons and muscles exploded in panic; her attacker looked like a tiger deranged with starvation, ready to devour her.

"Shut up, _wench_!" the man growled dangerously, red veins snaking into the whites of his eyes as he covered the hysterical girl's mouth with his repulsive hand; Lily contorted her neck, wrenching her lips free, and instinctively bit down on two fingers of the man's hand, causing him to yowl in agony.

The man, now furious, subdued her wild kicking by looping one arm around her legs and, with his emancipated hand, forcefully struck Lily across the face, causing her to go limp and her thrashing to cease. As he reached for his back pocket, ready to extract his weapon, a beam of red, agile light rocketed over Lily's wilting figure and seared his left shoulder, making him recoil in pain and drop his thick, stubby wand.

Lily gasped as the man fell backwards, clutching his painful shoulder and muttering an assortment of curses; though her vision was blurry, she saw her attacker's eyes suddenly grow wide as he spotted something across the empty street, "MALFOY! SHE'S DOWN HERE, SHE'S—_ARGH_!"

Lily stifled a scream as another bolt of light, this time blue, bluntly hit the grizzly man in the face and caused his once watery indigo eyes to spill over with a black, congealing substance; it was one of the most gruesome things Lily had ever witnessed, for the man appeared to be crying tar. He flailed and let out a blood-curdling scream, clawing at his ruined retinas like a possessed man fighting an exorcism.

"_MY EYES! I CAN'T SEE; MY EYES_!"

Lily fervently crawled as far away from the distressed man as she could, horrified at what she was witnessing. She felt the contents of her stomach lunging up her throat and had to clap a hand over her mouth and look away to stop from crying out. Lily turned away from the man towards the street, hoping the aversion would help her pull herself together; instead, she grew more panicked as she saw a middle-aged, poorly shaven man sprinting towards her from across the street, a _wand_ in his hand…

"_Wilkes_?" a voice sounded from above, causing Lily's frazzled attention to advert to her attic window; a man with lengthy whitish hair was leaning out the window, his disbelieving eyes matching the astounded expression on his perfect face.

Just as his eyes began to progress from his associate to the petrified girl slumped in the grass nearby, Lily turned and staggered to her feet, scampering in the opposite direction. She screamed as a purple shaft of light missed her by inches and blew a hole in the ground, but she steadied herself and kept running, adrenaline and fear urging her forward.

The black-haired man that Lily had spotted across the street was running toward her, his determined features and serious demeanour now discernable; Lily despairingly came to a halt, ready to veer to the left to escape him, but he did not slow as he approached her.

"GET INTO THE STREET! KEEP RUNNING!" he demanded authoritatively as he ran past her, a long instrument grasped tightly in his hand; his brown eyes were tough and vigilant, "FIND COVER!"

Lily hadn't the chance to reply or even think; the nimble man suddenly threw himself on the wet ground, somersaulting to his feet and racing towards her blonde attacker as a bolt of violent jade light narrowly missed him…

Lily gasped and instinctively understood he was trying to defend her. She didn't have time to comprehend what was going on or what fear-inspiring things she'd just witnessed; all she knew was that she was in danger and she had to escape.

Lily blindly hurtled into the street, soaked hair whipping her in the face as she jerked her head around to see if she was being followed. A few people congregated in front of shops and pubs watched her bizarrely run past, but she paid them no mind. Her lungs were screaming for oxygen, but she did not pause to catch her breath.

Having no concept of her dodgy surroundings or the shady district she had just hurtled into, Lily turned down a thin, abandoned alley, hoping she had lost anyone that might have been trailing her. As she headed for the piles of trash and green dumpsters at the end of the alley, tired and unfocused, a door suddenly swung open and Lily, who was taken by surprise, was pulled inside the grimy brick building.

Plunged into darkness, Lily reached her breaking point and began to wildly scream and thrash out at her attacker, whose face she was unable to see; the only problem was, no sound was emitting from her throat.

"It's alright! Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you! _Lumos._"

Suddenly the inside of the abandoned warehouse was illuminated, as well as the identity of the man that was attempting to restrain Lily. Lily's panicked eyes flitted from the face of the young, attractive man that held her forearm to the exceptionally long wand he held in his other hand, the tip ablaze like the flame of a candle.

"If you promise not to scream, I'll give you your voice back," the man began slowly, warily watching the redhead, who looked on the brink of hysteria.

Lily bit the bottom of her lip and side-glanced the warehouse door before meeting the chary gaze of her captor and nodding meekly. The man sighed and muttered something under his breath, pointing his wand at Lily's throat; she scrunched up her eyes, thinking it would hurt, but merely felt a rush of air swirl up her windpipe.

"_Bloody hell_." Lily gasped, coughing slightly as she clutched her throat in disbelief and looked up into the man's eyes, "What's going on? What do you want with me?"

"Listen Lily, I don't have time to explain. I know none of this makes sense, and you don't know me, but I need you to _trust_ me." the man breathed earnestly, appearing almost as unnerved as she was; Lily couldn't mistake the sincereness in his eyes and felt instinctively compelled to believe him, "Will you trust me?"

Lily suspiciously eyed the pleading man with his outstretched hand for a moment, taking in the regal shape of his face, the pale colour of his eyes and his straight brunette hair. Again her curious eyes fixated on his wand, the mysterious instrument of magic she had glimpsed tightly clutched in the hands of many since the night before.

It had all happened so fast—the masked men trying to kidnap her, breaking in Agatha's office, running away from school…and now, discovering she, like all the other people she'd encountered in the past 24 hours, was _magic_.

Everything was strange and frightening, but Lily couldn't help feeling she had finally uncovered the path she was supposed to be on. It was like she'd taken a detour and been led astray, and now, with everything that had happened, she was beginning to discover _who_ and _what_ she truly was.

The magical world in which she belonged was beginning to reveal itself, and Lily couldn't fathom walking away from it.

Without a word, Lily's tranquil eyes, the colour of emerald, met the stranger's and she took his soft hand in her own. He nodded with a small, reassuring smile and closed his eyes; Lily breathed deliberately, trying to calm herself as she experienced the sensation of being hooked by her naval and pulled backwards.

The dusty warehouse plummeted back into its empty darkness. They were gone.

* * *

Author's Notes

THANK YOU to all the loyal readers & reviewers that have expressed how much they enjoy this story and all my stories!

Love ya'll xox

pratty-prongs-princesse


	12. Chapter 12

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 12- Blur

_He flailed and let out a blood-curdling scream, clawing at his ruined retinas like a possessed man fighting an exorcism…_

"_MY EYES! I CAN'T SEE; MY EYES__!"_

She jerked forward, a raspy breath emitting from her desiccated throat as she tried to repell the memory of the man crying _black_ blood…

"L—y? C— yo—he—me?"

Everything converged into a swirl of black and dark purple, flecked with sporadic bits of whitish light. One moment she felt the comfort of moist, peaceful earth beneath her head; the next, her cheek was pressed against something warm—something moving—for she could feel her limbs jostling at her sides.

_What's going on?_

Listening closer, she could hear a deep, systematic thrumming against her ear. For a moment she wondered if it was in her head—if her very brain was bellowing for answers from her—but she soon realized it wasn't the only thing she could hear. There was a crunching noise below her suspended body, pronounced in the hushed surroundings, and above her…was it a song? _No…breathing_.

She attempted to open her eyes, but failed, the blur of green and yellow light burning her contracted pupils. Against her better judgment she moaned, realizing there was a burning acidic taste in the back of her throat. _I need water_.

Abruptly, she was no longer moving. The warm beating against her ear was replaced with soft soil, and something coarse touched her hot cheek. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes.

_There was a dimly lit office. Four wizards were crowded around a large desk, three of them keenly listening to an older man dressed in odd violet clothing. He was there, the youngest of the lot, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.__"We won't let that happen. That's why you've called us here, isn't it, Dumbledore? We're going to find her a new hiding spot and keep her protected."_

Protect me from what?

"_In a fashion, yes, Frank." the older one began, folding his hands and sighing; the three other wizards looked determined due to the prospect of such an imperative assignment, "It will be our mission to kidnap her before Voldermort does. My plan is for you three to see her safely to a small cottage on Windermere Lake, where she will stay until I personally move her to Hogwarts…"_

Lily struggled to concentrate on the conversation as it faded when the warm hand on her dirty face retracted. She whimpered, her arms reaching up to her face and her knees pressing against her chest in a fetal position.

"It's alright, Lily. Can you open your eyes?"

Lily felt disoriented; there were too many voices distracting her from contemplating the man speaking to her. She felt very far away; like she had just awoken from a dream she'd been living in for years and reality was just setting in. _This is it you know_. _There is no going back…now you are in a world with wands, spells, wizards…a Dark Lord…_

"Please, Lily… we might be in danger. I need you to wake up."

Lily heard the pleading in his voice, but barely distinguished what he was saying. He seemed agitated; she could feel the contagious anxiety pulsing from his hot skin. She knew she needed to open her eyes, but she was hesitant.

"Lily—"

It was like all her life she'd been trapped below the surface of a lake, her lungs yearning for air as she relentlessly struggled to swim toward the warmth of the sun…

_Open. Common, you must._The stranger inhaled in quiet relief when Lily's eyes finally fluttered open. He remembered the unique jade colour, which now retained a hint of yellow as they timidly reflected the dying sun. She looked oddly statuesque, her arms rooted to her sides and her lips parted; even her eyes appeared emotionless as they attempted to register her surroundings.

_Where…?_

Lily looked directly above her, not noticing the man crouched at her side; instead, she took in the hushed dance of the tree canopies, the subtle sound of unseen birds and brooks bubbling in the distance, and the potent smell of moist soil. She was in a dimly-lit forest absolutely littered with leafy Alders and Black Poplars, but she couldn't understand _how_ she got there.

"Are you alright?" the stranger asked hesitantly, carefully maneuvering into her line of vision.

"_Water_…" she rasped painfully, closing her eyes again and clutching at her throat; she felt as if she'd crawled across a desert in the beating sun and her esophagus had crusted over. Mysteriously, all her senses had been acute; one of the reasons her 9pain was more intolerable than usual.

"_Aguamenti_."

Lily sputtered in satisfied surprise when a stream of water spilled into her open mouth and wet the back of her tongue. A wave of cool relief spread throughout her body as she gulped down the heavenly liquid, her taut muscles slackening and her scratchy insides becoming soothed. _What was that word he used?_"Is that better?"

When Lily finally focused on the man above her, her lungs exploded; instead of filling with air, they packed with a dormant power that suddenly manifested in her every fiber. The tips of her fingers began to tingle and her head felt weightless on her shoulders…

She hadn't _really_ looked at him in the warehouse. He had smooth honey hair, flecked with gold. His jaw—square and elegant—was dusted with light brown stubble and his thin eyebrows were crinkled in curious concern, a very contradictory thing.

But those eyes…

Hidden beneath puffy eyelids, they were a thespian blue…a blue that looked like it had seen the world a hundred times over and had brightened with knowledge. She could tell by their cloudy depth that he was an old soul trapped in a young man's body.

Lily felt like she'd been reacquainted with a lost friend.

"Frank." Lily's voice cracked, her eyes opening and closing as they adjusted to the light that filtered in through the thick trees that surrounded them, "What—where are we?"

_Maybe…Windermere Lake? That's where he was supposed to take me._

Frank took a flabbergasted step back, his jaw slackening and his unsettled eyes growing round as he regarded the quiescent girl in disbelief. His debonair features were crinkled in amazement—something Lily did not miss.

"What's wrong?" Lily shakily inquired as she managed to push her body up from the ground and face him, her expression wary as she perceived his sudden fear.

Frank did not budge from his moss-covered spot in the forest as he continued to regard Lily as if she had grown three heads; it took him a moment to muster what he wanted to say, "Lily…_how_ do you know who I am?"

Lily blinked confusedly, her eyes suddenly growing hollow as she pondered his words. She'd heard Dumbledore speak his name…she'd seen him in the stone-walled office with two others, Kingsley and…Moody perhaps? They'd been talking about saving her…most of their conversation was a blur, she could only recall parts of it…

_But…how do I know this?_ _Did I use magic again?_

"I'm not sure how I know… but you are Frank…Frank Longbottom. You're on some kind of mission…a mission to save me, I think. I didn't quite catch the part about _why_ though."

Frank remained silent for a moment, disbelief seeping into his eyes as he took in every feature of the astonishing redhead. He was so consumed by her impossible knowledge that he fleetingly forgot what his purpose was.

"I don't understand…" Frank whispered seriously, his eyes curiously boring in Lily's as he stepped closer to her, "Who have you been speaking with? You _must_ tell me, for our own safety."

Lily paused, feeling uneasy as she deciphered the panic on his handsome face. How could she explain to him that _she_ didn't even know how she knew such things? The way he stared at her…it made her feel abnormal. Even beside Frank, _a wizard_, she appeared to be different. Lily shuddered.

"No one has spoken to me, Frank. I just _know_. Don't ask me to explain it, because I can't." Lily replied impatiently, the stubborn words rushing from her lips as her mind continued to run a mile a minute, "If anyone should be explaining themselves, it should be you. You know more magic than I do; I've only just found out I'm a witch. _You_ tell _me_ how I know."

Frank was taken aback by Lily's sudden fieriness; one minute she had been unconscious in his arms, the picture of vulnerability, and the next she was awake, knowledgeable and tenacious. He imagined her reaction to awakening in the middle of a forest to be much different—fearful, panicked, overwhelmed—but instead she seemed fervently curious, inexplicably calm and even a little _irritated_.

He frowned; she was even more than he expected.

"There's a lot to explain… I'll let Dumbledore handle that." Frank replied distractedly, his vague stare suddenly filling with intent again, "We'll figure you out later. Right now you and I have to focus on reaching the safe house. Someone burst into the warehouse just as we left, so I apparated a distance away so as to not give away the location. We've got to hurry."

Lily scrunched up her nose in confusion, "Apparated? What does that mean?"

"I don't have time to tell you." Frank retorted briskly, the anxiety of the mission overriding his usually polite manner, "Can you run?"

"Of course I can run. I have two feet, don't I?" Lily snapped back in annoyance, miffed that Frank refused to give her any answers; she folded her arms over her chest. She wasn't usually so stubborn and irritable around complete strangers, but she felt bizarrely comfortable around Frank.

She knew she shouldn't be poised or polished…not if she wanted answers.

Frank rolled his eyes at the stubborn girl, secretly astonished—if not engrossed —by her raw manner, and held out his hand, "Let's go then."

"I can run by myself, _thanks_." Lily glared impudently, refusing his upturned palm.

"Yes, but being a lady, you'll hardly be able to keep pace with me." Frank insisted, his blue-grey eyes narrowing as he began to get aggravated; after all, the only women that ever dared to challenge him, a Lord of the court, were female members of the Order.

"We'll just have to see about that, won't we?" Lily countered lightly, a rebellious smirk playing on her porcelain face as she took pleasure in his annoyance.

She wasn't sure if it was out of shock or emotional fatigue that she hadn't lapsed into another breakdown, instead reveling in the company of a complete stranger. Her mood was simply inexplicable…

"You're wasting time!" Frank growled from behind his gritted teeth; he inwardly chastised himself for losing his cool, though it seemed impossible around the girl.

"Then you better start running so I can _follow_." Lily snapped, her emerald orbs flickering like a candle flame as she regarded the aggravated man, "What are you waiting for, hmm?"

Frank grumbled again, his temper flaring, and suddenly took off toward the east, whipping what Lily assumed to be a wand from his pocket in the process. Lily gulped and, ten second later, began to sprint after him.

Leafy trees and green foliage blew past her in a blur, and beneath her feet branches and twigs snapped under her weight, piercing the eerie silence in the forest. Her lithe legs moved freely beneath her kilt, though she was surprised how much they protested with each movement. It occurred to her that she'd done quite a bit of running that day…

Lily wasn't too far behind, but far enough that Frank eased his quick pace to match hers. Adrenaline continued to push Lily forward, further than she had ever gone, but after nearly twenty minutes of non-stop racing her body began to slow.

"Didn't I tell you?" Frank goaded in silent satisfaction, smirking as Lily came to a dead halt and keeled over to catch her breath; she glared harshly up at him when he grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, but did not dispute.

Just as they both broke into a run again, Frank yanking her tired body forward, Lily's vision distorted and the forest before her shifted:

_There, nestled in the same woods, was a magnificent stone cottage with flowering ivy clawing up the sides towards the chimney. The medieval architecture was breathtaking, but it was obvious no one had lived there for centuries, for some of the stone was crumbling and the surrounding plant life seemed to consume it. The property and surrounding gardens, though overgrown, held a regal air and demanded a degree of respect._

_He was walking determinedly toward it, a taller, dark-skinned man walking in front of him. _She_ felt how he longed to be inside its protective circle. _

_As he grew closer he stopped with the man…_Kingsley_… at his side. They looked down at the ground and noticed the soil ahead was a different colour…a reddish hue as opposed to the muddy brown they were tramping on. _

_Kingsley picked up a small pebble, rolling it in his palm, and threw it toward the soil. He watched as the pebble hit an invisible barrier and ricocheted back before it could land on the ground._

"_Dumbledore put a protective shield charm around the perimeter of the cottage. It's very advanced; the only way to get through is with a password. You'll have to apparate a distance away and travel by foot."_

"_What's the password?" he asked._

"_Elderflower."_

Lily gasped as the images dissipated and her eyes readjusted. They were no longer running; Frank had let go of her hand and was standing in front of her, carefully observing the forest floor. In the far distance stood the sturdy stone cottage Lily had just seen in her mind…

_He's looking for the soil discoloration…_

Frank's head immediately snapped up when he heard her quick intake of breath.

"What's wrong? Have you hurt yourself?" Frank demanded acutely, his pale eyes suddenly filling with concern, a contradiction of his previous frustration.

"No…I…" Lily began hesitantly, the disquiet lingering behind her pupils causing Frank's face to contort in bewilderment, "You're going to think I'm crazy, but…I'd like to test something."

Frank's lips parted, about to retort, but all he could manage was a flabbergasted gape as Lily sinuously brushed past him, her breathtaking eyes trained on the ground.

Lily observed the contrasting colour pallet of the soil before her and bent over to grab a little stone. She snapped back up and examined it in her hand before looking up again. Just as Kingsley had done, Lily tossed the stone in front of her.

She was not surprised when it bounced back and landed at the crown of her feet. Lily continued to walk forward, her arms extended in front of her, until her hands touched the invisible, plastic-like barrier. It was solid and dry.

"Elderflower." Lily whispered cautiously, her expectant eyes widening as a gold streak of light sparked and suddenly carved out a rectangular door before her.

_Magic_…

It appeared to be floating in the middle of the forest without hinges; Lily couldn't hide her amazement, "This Dumbledore must be a _very_ powerful wizard…"

"_How did you_—?" Frank began desperately, instinctual frenzy suddenly flickering to calculated intimidation; the skilled Auror within him overruled his fervent curiosity with the girl, "Turn around and keep your hands near your face where I can see them."

Lily noted the dispassion in Frank's voice and turned to find his wand pointed at her and his expression dour; she stiffened, "What are you doing? Don't be ridiculous…"

"I can't ignore the amount of information you know. You could be a death eater, a distraction." Frank replied sternly, though Lily could seem a glimmer of doubt in his eyes, "Put your hands near your face or I'll have to make you."

"You can't be serious!" Lily exclaimed, outrage curving on her lips as she disregarded Frank's warning and took a step toward him…

"_Incarcerous_!" Frank agilely reacted to Lily's sudden movement, conjuring ropes from the end of his wand that magically bound around her wrists and ankles. Lily gasped as the slapdash spell restricted her movement and caused her knees to buckle.

"_Frank_!" Lily shrieked, her green eyes alive with fury as she struggled against her magical bonds; she looked pathetically weak, crumpled on the ground, "_What's your problem? _First you kidnap me and bring to this godforsaken place without explanation, and now you _tie me up_? _Let me go_!"

"_If_ you're telling the truth, I'll apologize profusely later. However, until Dumbledore and I confirm your identity and figure out how you know what you do, you'll be under my control. It would be reckless of me to act otherwise." Frank maintained, though inexplicable guilt nagged at him for treating a lady—if she _was_ one and not a death eater disguised by polyjuice—so poorly.

"If I _was_ a death eater, whatever that may be, I wouldn't be stupid enough to let you know everything I do." Lily grumbled angrily when Frank hooked his hand under her arm and pulled her to her feet, his wand resting on her back, "You told me to trust you back in the warehouse, and I did. I suppose it was my mistake to assume you'd trust me too."

Lily's fury dissipated as her scowl turned into a look of indifference and she turned her head away from him. Frank sighed, annoyed that the girl's quiet anger—which was more deafening then her shrill protests—made him second-guess his professional decision. Frank couldn't comprehend why her displeasure with him bothered him so much.

"Let's get inside the circle before anyone decides to follow." Frank instructed, though less harshly than before, "And I'm warning you; try and disapparate within the shield and you'll splinch yourself in half. There's an anti-apparation charm."

"I can't even _walk_ tied up like this, never mind _disapparate_." Lily snapped angrily, deciding to hide her curiosity about apparation.

Frank frowned and slackened the rope around Lily's ankles so she could take small strides in front of him; however, he kept a firm grip on her upper arm. When Frank made contact with Lily's bare arm, her vision clouded again, though not as thickly as before:

_He stood in the same woods… in a small clearing devoid of trees. Looking around, he closed his eyes in concentration and turned in his spot, his hands balled into fists…_

Then it all vanished. When he opened his eyes he was standing in a cobbled street below a sign that read 'The Leady Cauldron'…he looked down at his right hand and realized his index finger was missing.

Frank is thinking about apparation…

"Ah, Frank. Too close to the barrier, I expect. The charm must slightly extend past it. Lucky you only lost a finger; shall I go back and look for it with you?"

"Thank you, Lord Dumbledore, but I remember the spot." he replied, slightly repulsed at the appearance of his 4-fingered hand, "I won't make that mistake again. Glad you had us test the site…"

Lily compelled herself to return from Frank's thoughts as he ushered her forward toward the golden door that still shimmered before them. Pressing softly on the transparent shield, the door slowly opened and Frank and Lily entered into the protective circle, Lily struggling to keep her surprising revelation to herself…

_When he touches my bare skin I can see his thoughts…_

It made perfect sense. When Frank had touched Lily's cheek, he'd been thinking of the mission; when he'd grabbed her hand to help her run, he'd been remembering how to get through the barrier; when he'd touched her arm, he'd been thinking about the time _he_ splinched when he'd apparated too near the charm-protected shield.

Lily was stunned. _How_ was she doing that? She wasn't using a wand, and she'd only just discovered she was a witch... Was every witch and wizard able to do what she was doing? Frank seemed completely taken off guard by what she knew—information he was providing her with by touching her—which made Lily surmise that such a gift mustn't be standard…

Was she reading his mind? She wasn't really hearing thoughts as much as _seeing_ them. She had an idea what Frank was thinking about because she saw and heard the memories he was recalling…he was using them to answer questions he had, or perhaps he was just simply _thinking_, and memories popped up to accompany those thoughts…

_If I don't get answers I may explode…_

"Splinching…it's really quite disgusting, isn't it?" Lily suddenly inquired lightly, a pleased smirk twitching on her lips due to Frank's visibly aghast reaction, "I guess I don't have to ask if you found your finger, seeing how you're _squeezing_ my arm to death."

Frank froze, his blue eyes becoming alarmingly transparent and his mouth contorting into a partial scowl as he turned toward the teasing girl, "Already an accomplished Legilimens, are we? An unlikely skill for a witch who's just realized she's capable of magic. We'll see what Dumbledore thinks of you."

"Are you mocking me?" Lily raised an impertinent eyebrow at Frank's distrustful, suddenly sour nature, "I just hope he's more hospitable than _you_."

Frank momentarily eyed the feisty girl, a million implausible explanations racing around in his head, before snapping forward again. Lily rolled her eyes.

When the pair reached the neglected building Frank put up his hand, signaling Lily to stop, and pressed a warning finger to his lips. Lily remained rooted to her spot, suddenly bewildered, as Frank cautiously slinked up to the door and pressed his ear against it. He then gently trounced on the oval door at the front of the manor five times, each knock obvious and deliberate.

"_Password_?"

Lily recoiled and slapped her bound hands over her mouth to stop from crying out. The door handle, which had previously been a rusty gold colour, suddenly sprouted little yellow eyes, a mouth, a nose, and a pair of heavy-set eyebrows. The once inanimate object had an elderly voice that was deeper than any human voice Lily had ever heard.

"Pepper Imps."

The door knob grunted and a moment later multiple snaps and clicks behind the door sounded. It swung open, the hinges begging to be oiled, and revealed no one standing at the doorway. Lily arched her neck and saw an untidy, narrow hallway cluttered with dusty portraits and pedestal tables housing candle sticks that led deeper into the little cottage.

"Ok, in you go." Frank ordered, stepping aside and ushering a skittish Lily—who tried to catch a glimpse of the door knob again—into the cottage, closing and dead-bolting the door behind him; the hallway was submersed in gloom once again.

"T-t-that door knob _t-t-talked_!" Lily sputtered stupidly, deep worry lines settling around her eyes as the man busied himself with lighting candles; she naively wondered if she was like Gretel, lured into the witch's den with sweets only to be thrust into an oven when she wasn't looking…

_With my luck, I'll be turned into a talking knob for the back door…_

"With all you've seen and done, you are most startled by a talking _door knob_?" Frank scoffed dubiously, the silly comment causing him to reconsider his death-eater-in-disguise theory.

"Would you take me to Dumbledore already?" Lily insisted crossly, Frank's mocking chuckles making her want to slap the stupid grin off of his lordly face, "I've grown rather tired of _you_."

"Trust me, you're no picnic either." Frank retorted in amusement; some of his Auror façade had slipped away now that he was sheltered in the safe house, "Let's go then, the room at the end of the hallway."

Lily slowly walked down the melancholy hallway toward the oval door at the end, her footsteps causing the ancient floor to cacophonously creak. She took in the odd appearances of the dust-coated portraits haphazardly hung on the walls, most of which depicted haggard-looking, hooked-nose witches and wizards in lopsided hats, and flinched when she noticed the intricate cobwebs that hung from the ceilings like silk canopies.

"I don't suppose you could've chosen a less sinister spot for this little meeting?" Lily whispered uneasily, shrinking as she further penetrated the ghostly manor.

"Agrippa von Nettesheim lived here in the fifteen-hundreds. He was one of the pioneers of Renaissance magic; he published the Three Books of Occult Philosophy." Frank calmly responded to Lily's sudden anxiety, following in her wake, "The manor has been abandoned for centuries. It's proven useful, though von Nettesheim's spirit finds it amusing to wail all night. One of the reasons it's always been abandoned; muggles think it's haunted."

Lily skeptically looked over her shoulder at Frank, her mouth open in frightened astonishment, "What do you mean, _his spirit_? Like a ghost?"

"Why don't you read my mind and find out?" Frank challenged nimbly, his eyes darkening with intensity as he skeptically bore into Lily; she could tell by the determined etch on his face that he was testing her.

"I can't." Lily replied blankly, not about to reach out and touch him.

"I'm practicing Occlumency against you; you won't be able to read my mind this time or at any other time, now that I know." Frank stated, a small, gloating smirk smoothing his lips.

"Making assumptions about me without knowing me makes you seem quite arrogant, and it will make you feel foolish when you are proven wrong." Lily countered agilely, pursing her lips in vexation; she couldn't manage to keep the headstrong attitude she usually demonstrated at school at bay around him.

Frank's boyish grin worsened as he reached in front of Lily and clasped the brass handle of the oval door they were stopped in front of, "Time to see Lord Dumbledore now, do try and be polite."

Frank pushed open the rounded door and waited for Lily to step over the threshold. Lily took a deep breath and awkwardly entered the musty, book-strewn room, the bonds around her feet still immobilizing her.

_Here we go…_

The room, which smelled like an abandoned archive, was cluttered with shelves storing scrolls and rusty brass instruments. On the ceiling was a magnificent fresco, smudged with age, that depicted an array of mythical creatures Lily had never seen, and along the adjacent wall were dirty bay windows which emitted bits of light that sparkled on the crumbling mosaic floor.

Lily's breath caught in the back of her throat, the individual that matched her overcome stare was grander in real life than in Frank's memories…

He sat in the middle of the room behind a plain mahogany desk, dressed in shimmering cerulean robes and a matching hat, which looked like they were spun by Athena herself. His brilliant eyes, which matched his luxurious attire, shone from beneath half-moon spectacles. His softly wrinkled face creased into a momentous, fatherly smile when Lily tentatively entered; she couldn't help but become immediately affectionate of him.

Lord Dumbledore rose gracefully from behind the desk, having the litheness of a white lion, and walked up to Lily; as he did so, the ropes that bond her hands and feet slipped away and fell to the ground. Lily watched his movements behind wonder-filled eyes, having never been in the presence of such an enchanting being.

When he reached out to grab her hands, his blue eyes warm within unspoken wisdom, Lily did not protest, "It is an honor to finally meet you, Lily. I've been expecting you. I am Lord Albus Dumbledore."

"Yes, I know." Lily couldn't help but mirror his kindly smile; the older man's expression remained pleasantly warm, despite Lily's cleverness, "I think the pleasure will be all mine, Lord Dumbledore, especially once you've explained to me what's going on."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled in amusement, the weight and majesty of his every word filling Lily with anticipation, "I think you have been kept waiting long enough. Let us begin, my dear."

* * *

RAF Hawkinge, an airbase that would later be nicknamed _Hellfire Corner_, was bustling with activity like usual, Royal Air Force pilots fueling their planes—either Hawker Hurricanes or Supermarine Spitfires—or doing repairs on one of the eight guns paired off near the fuselage. Two triple-bay Belfast Hangars and a double-bay Belfast hanger were positioned along the north-western side of the site; near the landing strip was a tall observation tower where personnel waited for incoming signals from the radar system—a system that could track incoming German warplanes and give the Fighter Command sufficient time to get airborne.

It was at this base, located along the path the Germans would take in order to get from northern France to England, where James Potter and Sirius Black were stationed.

It was mid afternoon, and though the sun was high in the sky, its blonde rays did not cast down upon the concrete air base, which was tucked away in the Kent countryside. Portentous salt and pepper clouds splayed across the landscape and blocked out its warmth, doing nothing to improve the moods of pilots bidding their time below.

James Potter was silently lying across one of the 12 meter wings of the Hawker Hurricane he flew, staring up at the ill-omened English sky. The temperature—a staggering 35 degrees Celsius—had increased in the past hour and the wind had picked up, causing moisture to rise and, with invisible hands, mold dark cumolo-nimbus clouds that resembled stunted explosions.

James watched the clouds with unspoken emotion, his eyebrows creased, jaw set in a tentative frown and his chocolate eyes brimming with disquiet. An unnerving feeling had settled in his gut and was slowly chewing away at his flesh—he wasn't sure how, but he knew that change was coming…

He didn't know, however, if he'd be ready for it.

"You know, if you scowl like that for much longer your face will stay like that permanently." Sirius mused conversationally, idly painting a design on the fuselage of his plane, a Spitfire, nearby, "Wow…look at _that_! I didn't think I could get anymore talented than I already am."

James snapped out of his daze and slightly turned his head to glimpse the picture Sirius had painted on his plane beside the distinguishable ally symbol, which looked like target coloured red, white, blue and yellow. It was a black, shaggy dog leaping forward, as if about to pounce on an unseen prey. James' eyes flitted from the design to Sirius who, for a moment, James barely recognized.

Like James, Sirius was dressed in the typical RAF uniform—a B-10 jacket with a fur collar, inflammable B3-A gloves, leather RAF-designed Escape boots with a built-in knife, and a green camouflage scarf cut from a parachute. Near the wheels of his Spitfire were the rest of Sirius' gear—a C helmet with MK VIII goggles, a flight pilot rig composed of a parachute and first aid kit (filled with a tourniquet, Morphine Syrette and one bandage), and a life preserver that was to be worn over the already stifling uniform.

Sirius Black, once only seen in the most expensive clothing and designer tuxedos, was outfitted for war in heavy gear and air force fatigue; despite this, the mischievous twinkle had not left his roguish eyes.

"What'd you say I charm the dog to bark every time someone walks by?" Sirius continued eagerly, talking more to himself then to James, who had settled back into his sky-gazing position, "That'll teach anyone to touch my plane…yeah, I think I'll do it—"

"_Sirius_." James growled sternly, closing his eyes as he adjusted his head on the cold metal of the wing, "What did I tell you—?"

"_Sirius, if you do magic you'll get us both found and pulled out of the war by Dumbledore_." Sirius mimicked in a high-pitched voice, rolling his eyes as he approached James' Hawker and climbed into the exposed cockpit, "James, I'm sure Dumbledore has more important things to take care of then chase around a couple foolish wizards trying to get themselves _killed_."

"If you think what we're doing is foolish, you can _go_." James spat, suddenly jerking up into a sitting position and narrowing his eyes on his defiant friend, "I didn't ask you to come."

"And tell me, what _exactly_ have we accomplished so far?" Sirius snapped back uncharacteristically, gritting his teeth together in frustration, "Last time I checked, _Potter_, all we've done is forged a couple military documents and landed ourselves in this _dump_. All we do is wait around for an attack that _isn't_ coming."

"We _will_ be attacked, and soon. If you want to go, _then go_, but don't do magic and get me caught with you." James insisted angrily, ripping off his heavy gloves in exasperation.

Sirius gripped the Hawker's steering mechanism between his hands and sighed, suddenly catching sight of the tattered picture James had pinned to the switchboard. It was black and white, unmoving, and depicted a couple; the male was facing the camera with the long-haired female draped in his arms. It was the tabloid photo of James and Lily that had been featured on the front page of _The Sunday Chatter_.

Sirius looked somber as he fingered the shabby photograph and looked up at his best friend, who miserably internalized his heartache, "You miss her… don't you?"

James' eyes irritably scrutinized Sirius, who he imagined was teasing him, but when Sirius did not grin, James' expression alleviated and he tiredly closed his eyes. He paused for a moment, mulling over Sirius' question, "I've never felt this way before Sirius…I can barely think of anything else. When I left her there, standing in that field…it felt like…like I was abandoning her, like I was breaking her. I've never felt so hollow before."

If possible, Sirius' face became graver as he wordlessly listened to his best friend and watched his aristocratic wall—a wall he'd learned to put up to mask his emotion—crumble around him.

Sirius tucked the picture back into a slot on the plane's switchboard and sighed deeply, his ocher eyes filling with sympathetic understanding, "James…you _love_ her."

It wasn't a question; it was the truth, and it smacked James so hard in the face his eyes flew open and filled with moisture, like he'd been boxed in the nose. He sat up and bore into Sirius, vulnerability swimming in his confused orbs and slackening his jaw.

Could it possibly be true? After all that he'd been taught—to guard his feelings and be on the defense—after all he had seen—his parents' cold relationship, the arranged marriages of the aristocracy and the arctic romances forced upon them all—how could he, Lord James Potter, possibly find love?

"Yes," James repeated softly, swallowing hard and closing his eyes again, as if to shield himself from the bitter truth, "I love Lily…I cannot bear the thought of never seeing her again. Thinking of it…it makes me physically ill."

Sirius' eyebrows crinkled in distress as he climbed out of the cockpit and settled himself on the wing with James, wrapping an arm around James' shoulder in brotherly fashion, "I promise you James, you will see her again."

James, resting his head on his bent knees, sighed and slapped a friendly hand on Sirius' back, an indication of camaraderie and unspoken thanks. Sirius cracked an amused grin and slid off the wing of James' Hawker after him.

There was no more need to talk of James' love for Lily; it was now understood by both James and Sirius. Sirius only hoped he could keep his promise.

* * *

"I apologize for the abruptness—and apparently hostile nature—of your arrival here. I'm sure you must be overwhelmed with questions, my dear. Won't you take a seat and enjoy some mint-leaf tea before we begin?" Dumbledore spoke cordially, gesturing with a withered hand toward one of the auburn chairs before his desk.

Lily smiled, but before she could accept Dumbledore's hospitality and proceed forward, Frank stepped forward and put a restricting hand on Lily's shoulder.

"_Frank_, don't be absurd." Lily looked over her shoulder and hissed, her excitement melting away as she vehemently glared at the handsome wizard; she didn't want him to ruin Dumbledore's impression of her.

He matched her glare stubbornly, than ceremoniously turned to Dumbledore, who looking mildly intrigued, "I believe there are a few things we need to consider about Ms. Everard before we proceed."

"_Everard_?" Lily challenged sardonically, momentarily forgetting she and Frank weren't the only two in the room, "Some captor _you_ are, you don't even know my own name."

"Actually, it's _you_ who doesn't know your own name." Frank snapped back irritably, his lordly façade also slipping away.

"_Excuse me_? I don't know my own _name_?" Lily's jaw became rigid and flames flickered behind her eyes; she looked ready to murder Frank.

"_You heard m_—!"

"I'm very sorry to interrupt, but may I suggest we first ensure our plan has gone smoothly and that the mission hasn't been endangered and quarrel later?" Dumbledore convincingly interrupted, clasping his hands together as he calmly regarded the two young wizards behind his spectacles.

Frank and Lily immediately shut up, startled by his calm demeanor; then, in sync, both appeared bashful due to their childish behaviour.

"My apologies." Frank mumbled quietly, turning away from Lily—who he found to be infuriating—and instead focusing on Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked at Lily, perhaps expecting the same response, but she merely bit the bottom of her lip shyly.

"I am curious as to why Lily has been brought to me in chains. Frank, it is quite uncharacteristic of you to treat a lady in such a way. Would you care to explain?"

"I felt it necessary, Lord Dumbledore, as Lily—if that is who she really is—has demonstrated remarkable knowledge concerning the mission. Having only just learned that she possesses magical ability, I find it suspicious that she is already an accomplished Legilimens." Frank began professionally, mustering a plausible explanation for his actions; there was, however, a hint of nervousness in his tone, "I recommend we verify who she is before further jeopardizing the mission."

"A Legilimens you say?" Dumbledore mused in subdued curiosity, his eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles as his gaze focused back on Lily, who could not mask her annoyance with the Auror, "Lily, do you know what a Legilimens is?"

"No…but I've gathered it's something to do with mind reading." Lily replied, wondering if such an ability was illegal or seen as a bad thing in the wizarding world based upon Frank's reaction.

"A practiced Legilimens can read the mind of their victim like a book, seeing memories and thoughts that they later interpret. Unless one is an expert, eye contact is necessary to do this." Dumbledore explained eloquently, turning back to Frank, "What has led you to such a conclusion?"

"She knew about the safe house…the password and force field protecting it. She knew of my splinching accident…my name…things she couldn't possibly know unless she's an undercover death eater with previous knowledge or a skilled Legilimens. She could be a planned distraction for all we know."

"How intriguing…" Dumbledore trailed off, his eyes fixed on Lily—who shifted uncomfortably—but his mouth still holding a hint of a smile, "My dear, to put Frank's Auror mind at ease, will you allow me to verify your identity with a simple spell? You must understand we have gone to great lengths to find and protect you, and must continue to take every precaution necessary."

Lily warily watched Dumbledore pull a spindly, jagged wand from his pocket and timidly gulped, "Will it…hurt? This… _spell_?" The word felt foreign on her tongue.

"Certainly not. I wouldn't dream of hurting you, dear Lily. Quick and painless, I assure you." Dumbledore smiled sincerely.

Lily felt hesitant, remembered the gruesome effects of the last spell she saw used on another person, but couldn't help but feel compelled to see another performed, even if it was on her; "If it will led to answers and stop Frank looking at me like that… I'll do it."

Frank frowned.

"Excellent. Just hold perfectly still, if you please." Dumbledore smiled and raised his wand, lightly tapping it on Lily's shoulder and audibly announcing "_Specialis Revelio."_

Lily scrunched up her nose and closed her eyes, leery of the spell despite Dumbledore's comforting words, but, after seconds without sensation, she squinted through her eyelids at Dumbledore, "Did it work?"

"No, it did not." Dumbledore smiled brightly, Frank removing his hand from Lily's shoulder and respectfully shrinking backwards, "If you had indeed been disguised by any type of concealment charm or potion, the spell would have reverted you back to your original form. As you are currently in your original form, the spell took no effect. Satisfied, Lord Longbottom?"

Aristocratic shame suddenly gripped him. Frank had gone out on a limb—a potentially embarrassing one—and hoped he hadn't jeopardized Dumbledore's faith in his abilities.

"Yes Lord Dumbledore… Lily—I apologize for my actions... I hope you will forgive me." Frank courteously interjected after Dumbledore's explanation, bowing his head and eyeing Lily, who looked a little shocked, tentatively; he considered reaching out for her hand and kissing it, like any gentleman would do to a lady, but decided she wasn't the type to be wooed by regal manners.

"Oh…_er_—apology accepted." Lily returned quickly, suddenly feeling meek under the gaze of the young wizard; he really was quite handsome…

"Excellent! Shall the three of us get down to business then? There are still a few loose ends to tie up." Dumbledore promptly ushered the two inhabitants of his office toward his desk, procuring another chair for Frank and summoning three china cups and a pot of tea with his wand, "Please, take a seat, both of you."

Lily strode across the dusty library and plunked down in one of the soft buttoned chairs, accepting a tea cup and saucer, which floated into her hands by magical means, and desperately tried to ignore Frank's constant gaze. He did not accept tea, instead folding his arms in his lap and leaning forward in his chair, "Lord Dumbledore…have you received an update from Kingsley yet?"

Just as the words left his mouth, the desk began to rumble, the wood vibrating against the creaky floor. Lily recoiled in fright, but Dumbledore took a seat and wrenched open one of the drawers, pulling a silver-polished mirror out and holding it out for Frank, "Won't you hold this up for Lily and I to see?"

Lily skeptically eyed the hand-held mirror, wondering how it could make the whole desk roar and of its importance, and nearly fell off her chair when Frank angled the glass toward her and the face of a stately black man with noble features appeared_. _

"Lord Dumbledore." the mirror spoke equably, the masculine voice clear as a bell; though he was addressing the older man, he was staring at Lily with a slightly abashed expression. She squirmed, feeling like a circus animal on display.

"Your report, Kingsley?" Dumbledore inquired professionally, twiddling his wand between his spidery fingers as he looked over Frank's shoulder in thought, "As you can see, Frank has brought Lily safely to the manor."

"Yes." Kingsley turned his inquisitive gaze from Lily to Dumbledore, turning square, "Had Moody and I showed up any later, the death eaters would have apprehended her before us. Two were dispatched to the school early this morning to collect her—the Dark Lord must have become aware of her once she displayed magic last night. One death eater, identified as Wilkes, attacked her on the grounds when we arrived. Alastor—disguised by polyjuice—stunned and blinded him, but he was able to escape along with the second. We weren't able to get a look at the second, as he was hooded."

Dumbledore paused after Kingsley stopped, turning to the anxious redhead, "Lily, you please tell me everything that happened to you before you met up with Frank in the warehouse, including your encounter with the two wizards that came to the school."

Everything she had previously pushed to the back of her mind came rushing back; the death eaters coming to the school the previous night, turning invisible, breaking into Agatha's office, struggling with the perverted wizard outside the school…

"The two—death eaters, did you call them?—they didn't just come to the school this morning, they were also there the night before. I heard them on the grounds when I was in my room…they were wearing masks and speaking of a…a…a _Dark Lord_, saying he was looking for a girl with magical ability. I think it was then that I realized they were looking for me."

"Merlin…" Frank whispered in astonishment, sharing a startled glance with Dumbledore, who was listening intently, "Did they come into the school?"

"Yes, they got in without a key. I heard them outside the attic…one of them had given up the search—that was Wilkes I believe—but the other performed some spell that told him I was close by. They both came into my room…I panicked, I didn't know where to hide…so I hid in my trunk…" Lily trailed off, suddenly feeling uneasy about continuing the story.

"What is it, Lily?" Dumbledore asked gently, sensing her distress and softening his expression, "We need every detail you have in order to ensure your safety, my dear. Please, won't you continue?"

Lily modestly looked up at the fatherly figure, taking in the benevolent appearance of his engaging face, which was wrinkled with knowledge and an unknown burden. His kindly eyes regarded her with care; she felt like a child being comforted by a worried parent, something she had never experienced before. He wanted to help her, protect her; she couldn't say no to him, fearful of upsetting him or causing him to dislike her. _Why do I care what this wizard thinks of me?_

"Wilkes opened the trunk, but he did not see me. I…I was invisible. I looked in my mirror once they left, and the reflection was empty. I don't know how I did it…just like I don't know how I saw into Frank's memories." Lily replied quietly, side-glancing Frank, who looked astounded; in the mirror, Kingsley also looked aghast, perhaps even horrified.

"Dumbledore…that's _highly_ advanced magic. How could she possibly…?" Frank was at a lost for words, paralyzed in his chair as he stared at Lily, his pale eyes filled with amazement, "We knew she was special, but…so _powerful_?"

"Please, Lord Longbottom." Dumbledore's blue gaze was silencing; Frank bashfully stopped talking, controlled his shock, as Dumbledore turned back to Lily, "I had no doubt that you would possess extraordinary magical talent, Lily. You and I shall explore your unique abilities later. If you would please continue with your story first."

Lily tensely side-glanced Frank, who had fixed his clouded orbs on his fidgeting hands, which were settled in his lap; "The next morning I awoke with a plan to escape the school. I packed a bag filled with money and food, but before I left I wanted to get a hold of my student file. I broke into the head nun's office and found it…except it had been changed…"

"I took care of your file early that morning, Lily. Like you, we wanted no trace of your presence at St. Madeline's left behind. Instead of stealing it altogether, I just altered it a bit." the man in the mirror interposed swiftly.

"Oh…right." Lily blinked at the small image of the man, awkwardly clearing her throat as she still found it odd conversing with a mirror, "Well, just as I was about to leave, Sister Agatha and the two men from the night before came into the office. I hid under the desk, and while I was there I heard them asking Agatha if there were any orphaned students at the school. When she mentioned me, the only orphan, they became impatient and demanded to be brought to my room. I thought they'd gone upstairs, so I made a run for the door—except Wilkes had remained downstairs and stopped me escaping. We struggled outside, and he almost knocked me unconscious…but then another wizard came running at us and used magic on him. He told me to run into the street. It was when I turned down an alley that Frank pulled me into a factory and brought me here."

Dumbledore listened intently, and when Lily was finished, swiftly stood up from his chair and began pacing about the room, deep in thought. Just as Frank began to rise from his seat, Dumbledore put up a hand, causing him to feebly sit down again, "We are fortunate we arrived when we did, for our plan almost took a fateful turn. From this point forward we must be extra cautious. One death eater that has seen Lily has been permanently blinded…the question is, did the other see her?"

"I never saw his face clearly." Lily answered, feeling anxious due to Dumbledore's troubled words, "He was up in the attic when Wilkes and I were fighting on the grounds. If he did see me, it was probably only the back of my head as I was running."

"Moody and I were also unable to identify him, Dumbledore. The death eaters apparated once I arrived on the scene to assist Moody. We've spent most of our time since their disappearance obliviating the memories of the muggles that witnessed the skirmish." Kingsley offered after Lily, his expression sober.

Lily turned away from the mirror to look up at Dumbledore; he was tracing his fingers over the length of his knobby wand, his expression slightly aloof; "Kingsley, you and Moody will keep to your previous instructions. I will be taking Lily to Hogwarts immediately; I fear there is no time to dawdle. Though we must deal with some fresh problems, the plan hasn't changed."

_Hogwarts? Haven't I heard of that school before…?_

"Yes, Lord Dumbledore. Alastor and I will check in at the school tomorrow morning. Until then." Kingsley nodded proficiently, his stare lingering on Lily a moment longer than the others before his reflection in the mirror dissipated.

The landscape outside of the dirty library windows was beginning to darken; the twitter of birds had been hushed, instead replaced with the lingering peace that was associated with dusk, and soon the sound of crickets would sound. Lily thought the majestic forest, which was now blanketed in shadow, seemed much more ominous than before…

Since the disappearance of Kingsley in the mirror, the room had lapsed into silence, Dumbledore pacing about in deep thought, either oblivious or uncaring of Frank and Lily's expecting faces. Lily anxiously side-glanced Frank, hoping for some encouragement, but he seemed as agitated as her, clicking his shoes against one another and staring at the floor.

Lily was sure she was going to scream if she didn't start getting answers, but something inside of her warned her to hold her tongue and observe. _I should just reach out and touch him to get answers, for Christ's sake!_

Suddenly, with a flippant wave of Dumbledore's hand, flames suddenly burst into life on the wicks of the candles dotted around the room. Dumbledore walked toward one of the bookshelves on the far wall and extracted a curious item: an antique spy-glass. Lily watched Dumbledore examine the pirate-like item in his aged hand before he placed it on the desk before her.

"I must apologize, Lily. Getting you safely to Hogwarts has become a more urgent issue, and we must therefore postpone proper explanations until we arrive." Dumbledore finally said, his mouth moving but his thoughts far away, "Please stand and come around to my side of the desk."

Surprising herself, Lily obediently followed Dumbledore's instructions and rose from her seat, silently coming up beside the old wizard, "Where is Hogwarts? How will we travel there?"

Dumbledore bestowed upon Lily another fatherly smile, though it seemed less warm and more worried, "Hogwarts is in the highlands of Scotland, my dear. As for our mode of travel, we shall be taking a portkey. I expect the house elves will have dinner prepared by the time we arrive."

"Portkey?" Lily blinked, clueless.

"Ah, you have much to learn my dear, but do not fret just now. Frank, I—"

Dumbledore was cut off suddenly when some of the dusty instrumentation on the bookshelves incasing the room began to do a series of odd things: like a children's toy top, the contraptions began to spin, whiz and emit gusts of red smoke, some moving so erratically they crashed to the floor and smashed. Lily watched the display in confused amazement, not noticing Dumbledore and Frank exchange grave looks.

"The sneakoscopes…" Frank murmured, abruptly pulling out his wand and extinguishing all the candles, cloaking the room in black.

Submerged in total darkness, fear instinctually tingled up Lily's spine and made her alert; she could feel Dumbledore beside her, silent and still, and a few meters before her she heard Frank whispering in what sounded like Latin.

"W-W-What's going on?" Lily's voice trembled, her eyes fiercely darting around the darkness, trying to adjust; she could feel Frank suddenly beside her.

"It's alright," Dumbledore said quietly; Lily wished she could see his gentle face and find more comfort, "Listen carefully: I'm going to place your hand on the item before us. In moments, you will feel like you are being squeezed through a small tunnel—it will only last a second."

Before Lily could manage to respond, Dumbledore somehow snatched up her hand and placed it on the looking-glass on his desk. Dumbledore's hand also remained on it; she could feel the brittle bones protruding from beneath the stringy ligaments. Frank's hand was also there, but it wasn't grazing hers.

They remained frozen, Lily dreading the moment she'd feel what Dumbledore had spoken of, but she was momentarily distracted from it when the floorboards in the hall behind the office door creaked under pressure. _There are people here…_

"How much longer?" Frank whispered to Dumbledore, his voice characterized by the subdued panic, "I can hear them in the hall—the charm on the door won't keep them back for long."

Dumbledore did not respond to Frank; instead, with the cool air of an aristocrat, he softly said, "Here is your chance, von Nettesheim. Please."

Frank clapped his free hand over Lily's mouth when she gasped, for a deep, sinister giggle reverberated around the office in response to Dumbledore, prompting shivers to engulf Lily's body. _What the hell was that?_

"Only a few more moments…hold on…stay quiet…"

And then, just as most of the day had been, the rest was a blur to Lily.

There was an ear-piercing, blood-curdling scream that filled the house—a ghastly, unnatural noise that sounded like the combination of a fire-alarm and long nails scraping a chalk board. Gruff, scared voices in the hall reacted to it; footsteps suddenly pounded on the floor, and multi-coloured flashes shown through the cracks in the doorframe.

Just as she was sure the intruders were going to burst through the door into the office, the scene shifted; it was like she had been in a portrait, and someone had pulled the plug behind it. All the paint had converged into one colour—_was it blue, or green?_—and washed down the drain. She was rapidly moving backwards, like a comet in reverse, heading back into space after a crash landing on earth…or maybe she was spinning out of control, swirling about in the eye of a hurricane about to crash against the coast. She didn't know.

It was a dream; was she awake, was it real? She looked around and saw nothing…yet she saw _everything_. Then she looked down…

The spy-glass was still in her hand…and there were other hands holding onto it as well.

Then it was over.

* * *

_Earlier that day…_

"I'm telling yah, fellas! There ain't no prettier actress than Bette Davis!" Peter Darby insisted vehemently, obnoxiously pounding his fists on one of the wooden tables on the edge of the airfield, where the pilots lunched, "I ain't _never_ seen curves like that on a woman!"

A few pilots had gathered around the tables just outside one of the hangers to eat and play cards on their breaks from training. Some were playing poker with cheap trinkets, while others were swapping stories from home. Peter Darby was in a heated discussion with two other men about Katherine Hepburn when James and Sirius strode by, "Oi! Potter! Black! Come join us!"

Sirius turned to James, who inertly shrugged, and the two ventured over to the table, having nothing better to do. When they took their seats, Sirius leaned into the conversation curiously, while James inclined back and closed his eyes, uninterested.

"Billy 'ere was just saying how Kate Hepburn is the prettiest actress, isn't that a laugh?" Darby snorted passionately; the hyper young man was always bouncing excitably on the balls of his feet, eager for others to become as enthused as he.

"She's classy, that Kate. I like that in a woman." Billy, a shaggy, bright-eyed man added calmly, though he was becoming jaded with the conversation, "I don't find floozies attractive; never know who they've been with."

Darby was about to protest when Sirius cut in pompously, "_Trust me_, Billy. I have been surrounded by classy women my entire life, so has Jamsie here, and they aren't as wonderful as you imagine. Now _floozies_ on the other hand—"

Just as Sirius was about to begin a rather crude rant about promiscuous women—a topic he could probably teach, with the plethora of knowledge and _experience_ he possessed—a high-pitched alarm, which pierced the eardrums of the pilots and sent deathly chills down their spines, sounded from the hooded speakers around the airfield…

The men froze in their places, their widened eyes slowly scanning the base for any flicker of movement; it was unnaturally still. James thought his heart might've stopped, the shrill bell, which screamed for action, squelching the beating with fevered hands. He looker over at Sirius, who was unsmiling; the lack of movement in his bronzed body and face gave him the appearance of one who had been petrified.

The rest was a blur to James.

The base was suddenly a mass of activity; men were barreling towards their planes, leaders were screaming orders, propellers were sputtering into existence. James didn't know how, but his feet had carried him across the stretch of concrete to his Hawker. Throwing on the rest of his uniform and situating the heavy helmet on his head, he'd momentarily gathered with his squadron leader and team, all of whom had a surreal looks upon their faces. _Is this a dream?_

"GET TO YOUR PLANES, MEN! SHOOT DOWN ANY ENEMY AIRCRAFT YOU CAN! HEAD THEM OFF BEFORE THEY CAN GET TO LONDON, AND MAY GOD BE WITH YOU!"

He could barely remember what his orders were, but James threw on his heavy equipment and pulled the goggles on his helmet over his head. Pulling himself up into his plane, he quickly began awakening it. Flipping and pressing a series of buttons and toggles, the engine roared to life and, with the help of another pilot, the propeller was thrust into motion. The roar of the Hawker caused adrenaline to suddenly rush through every vein in his body; he tingled with fear and inexplicable excitement.

James looked up from his dashboard at the scene before him: planes were taking off down the landing strip, soaring upwards into the partially clouded sky…there were men directing the take offs, groups gathered together receiving instruction, panicked people running in every direction…

"ALRIGHT POTTER, YOU'RE NEXT! LET'S GO!"

James didn't know who was yelling at him, but he knew he had to go. Just as he was about to drive the plane forward in order to get into position for takeoff, he realized he didn't know where Sirius was.

"_OI_! JAMES, JAMES _BLOODY_ POTTER!"

James fervently looked around for the source of the voice. An instinctual smile broke out across his face when he saw Sirius behind him, situated in his plane, which was also fired up and ready to go. James didn't think he'd ever forget that image of Sirius: no fancy tuxedo and blonde bombshell on his arm, instead suited up for war—immersed in a place of fear and death—waving at him madly, the family he never had. _He's here because I'm here..._

"DIDN'T THINK YOU'D BE GOING WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE, DID YOU?" Sirius had to yell over the roar of the surrounding planes; he, like James, looked torn between excitement and horror, "GOOD LUCK, MATE!"

"I'LL SEE YOU UP THERE!" James shouted back, his throat abruptly becoming dry and his Adam's apple sinking into his stomach; as Sirius' plane began to turn another way, dread set in, "_OI_! IF YOU DIE BLACK, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

The aircraft director was screaming orders at James to move, but as he shifted the plane into gear and began to move into position, the only thing that ringed in his ears was Sirius' barking laughter.

James moved into position. The runway stretched out before him, moisture rising from the hot concrete and distorting the air around him like a mirage. Sweat beaded on his forehead; he could see some of his fellow comrades already in the air, heading down the Thames towards London.

"YOU'RE CLEAR TO GO! TAKE OFF!"

"It's just like flying a broom..." James said aloud to himself, trying to gather his confidence as he pedaled the gas and plunged the plane forward. _This is it…_

As it gained momentum and speed, James pulled back on the wheel and arched the plane upward. It took only seconds to get the Hawker airborne, and James let out a yelp of satisfaction as he urged it to climb higher and higher into the sky.

It was a surreal experience, flying—yet something he had done so often during his Quidditch days. Hovering just above the cloud-line, the naked sun beating down on his shoulders and reflecting off the glass that incased him, absolute quiet, save the engine bellow…it felt natural. James was in his element 10,000 feet up in the air.

He steered the plane north towards London. In the distance James could see other Spitfires and Hawkers dotting the horizon, perhaps twenty or more, all catching the sunlight and twinkling like mid-day stars. Suspended in such beauty, surrounded by endless freedom, it was hard to fathom he was flying towards some unknown enemy.

Little did James or any of the other pilots know, they'd be outnumbered four to one against Germany's Messerschmitts and Junkers—the planes behind their formidable Luftwaffe.

* * *

Author's Notes

It's been a long time coming, I know! I hope you enjoyed this chapter—lots of drama to come I'm afraid! A big twist I'm pumped to begin writing!

Now that I'm nearly bedridden due to a severely broken foot, hopefully I will be able to devote more time to writing!

Honestly, if it wasn't for the _staggering_ amount of reviews the last chapter garnered, I might have given up! So, keep reviewing to motivate me please :)

All you readers and reviewers; you are AWESOME!

**-pratty prongs princesse**


	13. Chapter 13

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 13- Brothers in Arms

The further north James flew, the bleaker the weather became. In the distance he could see the outline of tall London buildings contrasting against the orange-grey sky, as well as its dull reflection on the Thames River. Squinting from behind his goggles, James thought he could even see Big Ben rising from the heart of the historic city, a beacon for lost pilots. He imagined in another ten minutes he'd likely be flying over it.

A moody setting, yet James couldn't help but admire the morose beauty from his lonely place 10,000 feet up in the air. He shifted his eyes forward, making sure he was still following the squadron leader's Hawker, then to the side, where he saw a familiar Spitfire.

It was still eerily quiet. The gentle hum from his engine and from those planes flying around him provided the only noise; a noise which James found strangely comforting. It was almost like a mechanical lullaby, dangerously luring him into a sense of security that didn't exist.

James' auburn eyes became unfocused as they drifted to his dashboard, tracing over the tattered photograph of him carrying the delicate frame of a red head through a trash-filled alley.

"_I don't want you to go." Lily said breathlessly, her emerald eyes overflowing with fresh tears as James pulled her close to his chest, resting his chin on her head as he looked out into the misty distance, willing himself to stay strong.  
_  
_"I'm going to come back for you." James whispered into her ear, his voice barely audible over the soft rain, "I promise."  
_  
_"How can you promise something like that?" Lily murmured hopelessly, tearing herself away from his shoulder and boring into his eyes, "God knows where you'll be, what circumstances you'll encounter…who you'll meet—"  
_  
_"I don't think I'll ever meet another girl like you." James' expression faltered, betraying his passionate emotions; Lily looked up into his blandiloquent, rain-spattered face, fear and vulnerability swimming in her chiaroscuro-coloured eyes, "You've awoken me to life, Lily—before you I didn't dream, I didn't laugh… and most of all, I didn't care. There is a world outside of my aristocratic one—your world— and I'll be damned if I let it go to hell."  
_  
_"You don't need to save it, James! In your world you are protected." Lily pronounced clearly, her bottom lip quivering as she reached for his cold hand, "__**Please**__."  
_  
James' handsome face, roguishly unkept since his recruitment, broke into a pained, _ugly_ scowl as the memory suddenly pierced his chest like a hornet's stinger. Ever since he had left Lily that rainy afternoon, James had doubted his decision to join the air force. Riding in the back of the army jeep, watching the men that climbed aboard depart from their families, he wondered why he was leaving behind someone it had taken him nearly twenty years to find…

James fingered the photograph momentarily, than yanked it from the plane dash and carefully tucked it into the breast pocket of his B-10 jacket. _She begged me to stay... and I left her…_

The radio on the dashboard began to make a scratchy, fizzled noise, wheezing in and out of existence. James sighed, snapping his attention back to his plane, and banged it with his hand, an action which made the annoying sound even more pronounced than before.

"How do muggles come up with these ridiculous contraptions?" James grumbled, inexpertly playing with the dial on the radio, which provided him with no results, "Rubbish thing must be broken."

Thinking a small spell wouldn't cause any alarm or be significant enough to get he and Sirius caught by magical authorities, James reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thin, magnificently-crafted mahogany wand and tapped it on the radio, muttering: "_Reparo_!"

It took only a second for the radio to begin working properly, for a fevered voice suddenly sounded in the cockpit, "…ARE EVERYWHERE! CAN SEE FORTY OR FIFTY, FLYING ABOVE CLOUDLINE, HEADING TOWARD CITY, WE'VE GOT TO CUT THEM OFF BEFORE THEY START DROPPING BOMBS—"

"FUCK!" James exclaimed in panic, looking up from the radio, which was still frantically shouting out instructions, and spotting his squadron leader and the accompanying troop sharply turning to the left, wings vertical to the ground below.

James' heart began to beat fiercely in his chest and sweat beaded on his brow as he pulled back on the steering mechanism and jerked it to the left, his body lurching to the right as he struggled to catch up with the rest of the fleet. He urged the plane to speed up until he was closely tailing the fleet, which took another sharp turn to the left. James looked out the window and realized he was flying right above the city…

"GUNS AT THE READY, REMEMBER THE FORMATION, TRY TO TAKE OUT THE DORNIERS AND THE JUNKERS THAT CARRY THE BOMBS, WATCH OUT FOR ESCORTS—"

The quiet was suddenly gone, along with James' daydreams.

It was more like a nightmare now.

Heading straight for them were row upon row of Luftwaffe planes, all of different size and colour. Bigger planes—the bombers—were flanked with many smaller escort planes designed to protect them from enemy fire. They dotted the murky purple sky, moving ominously forward like Spartan foot-soldiers, and filled it with a pervading rumble which could only be likened to distant thunder.

Like a tornado, the Germans began to rip through London.

Gunfire soared through the air in every which direction, resembling a shower of spell work, and the planes in front of James began to turn in opposite directions, left and right, up and down, in an attempt to escape the oncoming fire and find a new point of attack.

James propelled upward into a patch of clouds as a sprinkling of bullets barrelled toward him, flicking the capsules covering the buttons that would trigger his gunfire up and tightening his grip on the steering mechanism. Taking a deep breath, James angled the wheel harshly and began rapidly descending.

As he broke from the cloud cover he saw the German fleet directly below him and began to fire at one of the largest planes, a Messerschmitt Bf-110. Other RAF planes were approaching the German fleet from other angles, taking shots at the bigger bomber aircrafts, or flying away from the main fleet with enemy crafts on their tail.

In all the confusion, James got in a few hits to one of the Messerschmitt wings before two escort Focke Wolfe planes broke off from their formation and began to ascend toward him in a wave of gunfire, the black Nazi symbol on their tails prominently contrasting their silver bodies.

"MERLIN'S SHIT!" James shouted in alarm, one of the bullets going through the glass in his cockpit and lodging in the leather of his seat above his shoulder.

James yanked on the steering and sent his Hawker into a 360 degree roll to the right in order to pull himself out of enemy fire. Plunging into more cloud cover didn't help, for when James straightened out, ready to maneuver back into an attack position, he looked into his rear-view mirrors and saw the two fighter planes closely following him.

Bullets began to rain over the head of the cockpit, making high-pitched snaps as they soared by, and James swore loudly when a few scraped against his wings, peeling back strips of the metal. Moving the plane erratically from side to side, trying to make it more difficult for the planes behind him to get a clear shot, James wracked his brain to try and formulate a plan.

The battle had barely begun, and his chances of survival already seemed slim. Another bullet skimmed the glass above James' head, making it further crack: "BUGGER!"

"OI, JAMES! DO THE WOOLLONGONG SHIMMY UNTIL I GET UP TO YOU!"

James's eyes widened as he looked down at his dashboard and saw Sirius' concreted, yet frazzled face appear in the little mirror that had been tacked beside the radio, "_SIRIUS?_ WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT—"

"SHUT UP AND DO AS I SAY!" Sirius ordered raucously. His little image was looking forward, hands trickily managing the steering in his Spitfire; James guessed he was seeing out of the magical mirror on Sirius' dashboard, "JUST PRETEND WE ARE PLAYING QUIDDITCH!"

"YOU ARE ONE SNEEKY IDIOT, BLACK!" James shouted back, his worried, slightly crazed voice carrying a hint of amusement, "HERE IT GOES!"

Though he wasn't on a broom stick, James attempted to pull off a difficult high-speed zigzagging maneuver that was used by Chaser's in Quidditch to throw off other Chasers. Jerking the plane to the extreme right, then left, than up and down, James was able to confuse the Wolfes to the point where they struggled to get a clear shot.

"IT'S WORKING!" James exclaimed in wild relief, though he was beginning to feel slightly nauseas from the erratic movements, "Can you get a clear shot?"

"I'm on their trail…I don't think they see me because of your spastic flying…I might hit you if I take a shot...dip down, then do the Porskoff Ploy and I'll get them as you ascend again!" Sirius replied quickly, his little image breaking into a mischievous grin.

"When did you become so _smart_?" James demanded comically, though his concentrated face looked strained as he slanted the plane dangerously downwards, the two German planes on his trail, then abruptly sloped it back up again, causing the pressure in the cabin to rise and his ears to pop.

"I've…always…been…SMART!" Sirius roared, shooting rapidly once James' plane soared above his so that the two planes following flew into the gunfire without even realizing it.

Both Wolfes burst into flamboyant flames, one of the fuselages crumpling in half because of the onboard explosion, and spun toward the ground, leaving a wake of angry black smoke. The display was surreal, yet horrifying.

"YESSS!!!" James bellowed exuberantly, laughing triumphantly as he levelled his plane alongside Sirius', "I knew I put you on the Quidditch team for a reason!"

"WOOHOO!" Sirius hollered in excitement, smiling brilliantly from the mirror on James' dashboard, "What do you say we go kick some Nazi ASS, Jamsie-boy!"

"I'm thinking a Parkin's Pincer next!" James responded excitedly; he was scared before, and there was still a degree of apprehension, but with Sirius fighting beside him and the adrenaline of his first take down pumping through his veins like an euphoria elixir, James was eager for more, "Let's sandwich that Dornier!"

"Now we're talking!" Sirius grinned, his school-boy eyes shining with thrill, "I'll take the right—"

James and Sirius dipped back below the cloud line, expecting to find a similar scene as the one they just departed from minutes ago, but the dreary grey and purple had diffused to black and orange...

London was on fire.

The city was blotched with orange-red fire that emitted opaque, polluted smoke. The air was a sooty black mess, the ground patched with destruction. The faint ringing of sirens floated from the city and mingled with the roar of plane engines; the RAF was in a frenzy, attempting to attack the German bomber planes and dodge oncoming gunfire from the escorts.

"Oh my god…" James whispered, the excitement that had coursed through him dissipating and filling with horror at the fiery scene before him. The dogfight was barely registering in his brain; all he could see was the devastation on the ground, the smoke swirling around Big Ben, the Thames reflecting the fire that burned on its shores…

"_Potter_!"

It was as if a thousand small spiders had crawled down his spine and left a trail of ice. He wasn't sure if he was breathing, or if he ever could again. James was paralyzed in terror.

_Lily is down there_.

"JAMES, COMMON MATE, PAY ATTENTION!" James could hear Sirius' voice, but the sound was diluted, as though his ears had filled with blood and it was blocking out all the noise and commotion, "YOUR GOING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?"

_She's down there by herself…she isn't protected…there isn't a bomb shelter in the school…I've got to get down there now…I should just apparate…_"_JAMES BLOODY POTTER_, WOULD YOU SNAP OUT OF IT AND—!"

There was a loud, perfunctory crack. The abruptness of it, coupled with the silence of Sirius' voice, made James flinch and duck his head; he'd almost forgotten he was still in the air. James looked up, sweaty hands still firmly grappling the Hawker's steering apparatus, looking to see if a bullet from an enemy fighter plane had ricocheted off of his windshield, but found the glass was unblemished.

More alert, James surveyed the battle—which was beginning to lose meaning—happening all around him and made a split-second, desperately selfish decision, "Sirius? I've got to land and get to Lily; I need you to watch my back."

Silence—filled with the growl of engines, the systematic chug of bullets being spewed from machine guns, and the pitter patter of distant bombs connecting with the ground—followed James' request, making him feel ill; the tingling along his spine was only getting worse. He looked at the mirror on his dash, knocking it desperately with his fist, but didn't see Sirius' scrunched up face.

"_Sirius_?" James questioned frantically, awkwardly crooking his head to the right, where Sirius' Spitfire was supposed to be flying; the scene that met him was, possibly, more horrifying than the previous.

The slender, camouflaged body of the airplane, which only momentarily was agilely maneuvering amongst the clouds, was barreling towards the ground—more specifically the English Channel—as fast as gravity and velocity would allow, a swirl of smoke issuing from the tail. The silhouette of the jumping dog Sirius had painted was perpendicular to the earth, leaping to its fate.

"_NOOO_!" James bellowed distraughtly, his eyes widening in his skull and his heart palpitating so fast in his chest it was ready to leap out, "_I'M COMING, SIRIUS_!"

James pulled up hard on the throttle, his knuckles a searing white colour as he angled the plane sharply downwards toward Sirius', which had begun spinning out of control. He grit his teeth together, an aggressive growl resounding from betwixt his lips as the sudden pressure change made his ears pop and pushed hard against his rib cage.

The bulb in the pressure gauge began to flash red, and a sharp warning beep suddenly filled the cabin; James took no notice, his intense brown eyes, which were swelling with frantic tears, fixated on the doomed plane before him.

_I can't lose him…my brother…_

Again, James' surroundings had disappeared. He wasn't up in the air anymore, manipulating a mechanical bird toward a watery death; instead, he was holding onto his memories like they were diamonds.

_James was running down a beautifully decorated hallway with big windows that allowed the afternoon sunshine to fill the space with its yellow brilliance. He was only a child, dressed in exquisite play clothes that had dirt and grease smudged all over them; his sopping trainers were leaving muddy shoe prints all over the Persian carpets. James was laughing uncontrollably, dashing down the corridor with a young Sirius in his wake, who was running after him with a garden snake clasped in his chubby hands. They both darted into a closet at the end of the hallway, collapsing into the mess of brooms and sponges in a fit of giggles._

"_I think we lost them!" James gasped happily, tears of mirth running down his flushed cheeks._

"You bet we did! What do you say we put this wee fella in your parent's bed?" Sirius was cackling madly, his hair haphazard and his face alive with a smile that was missing a few teeth, "We can blame it on the house elves!"

"_OK!" James beamed at his dirt-spattered counterpart, taking the snake from Sirius and examining it, "You know, we make a good team. I've never pulled such pranks in my whole life. My mother will be furious when she finds out what we did to the tentacula!" _

"_Well, of course we do. We're best friends, aren't we?" Sirius replied matter-of-factly, suddenly rummaging around in the closet, "Help me find a bucket or something, I've an idea."_

_James paused thoughtfully, silently watching the boy grope his way through the cleaning supplies; he was too bewildered to help him look._

"_Yeah…we're best friends." _

_Sirius didn't notice, preoccupied with the reptile he re-appropriated, but James' pre-pubescent face communicated pure elation, a grin spanning from one ear to the other._

_He had never had a friend before._

James didn't falter or hesitate; he didn't second guess his choice, fearing consequence. Sirius' Spitfire was nearing a thousand feet at an alarming speed, James close on his tail. The smoke billowing from the gunned-down plane made seeing nearly impossible, but James didn't care.

James unstrapped his safety belts, pulled out his wand and pointed it at the glass cockpit roof that was incasing him, "_BOMBARDA MAXIMA_!"

The glass shattered into a million tiny shards. James was instantly flung backwards out of the plane, which he dimly saw swirling towards the ground alongside Sirius'.

Unperturbed by the ear-splitting whooshing in his ears, or by the fact he was free-falling toward his death, James proficiently inclined himself forward so that he was diving head-first toward the water. He felt no fear; his movement was controlled, his drive unyielding. Mustering all his strength and determination, James exhorted his wand arm forward, struggling to battle the heaviness which threatened to force his arm back to his side, pointing his wand at Sirius' plane.

At that moment, nothing else existed or mattered except Sirius.

"_ARRESTO MOMENTUM_!" James shouted raucously, a silver spell gushing out of the tip of his wand and spurting, quicker than any muggle bullet, through the filthy atmosphere, which was momentarily illuminated.

_Come on Sirius, you can pull through this…we are going to be alright…_

All he had now was hope. James closed his eyes, saying a quick prayer before he pulled the cord that unleashed his parachute.

* * *

Author's Notes

My love goes out to all the readers who reviewed. You are a persistent bunch, and that's why I love you! I know this chapter was a bit shorter than the others, but I shall reward ya'll with another chapter within the week if this one garners enough reviews! So, if you want another chapter ASAP, review ;) The next will be all about Lily's arrival at Hogwarts, and a character that will become central to the plot will be introduced!

Question is: What will happen to James and Sirius?

pratty-prongs-princesse


	14. Chapter 14

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

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Chapter 14- Rebirth

Lily was spinning out of control, literally.

She felt nauseas, the contents of her stomach jostling about hysterically, and faint. The images—which were more like limitless, cross-hatched colours—that were flashing and twisting around her didn't make sense; then again, spinning in an unearthly chasm of light and colour didn't make sense either. Lily's brain couldn't keep pace with her eyes as they darted around in fearful wonder. As soon as a question formulated, another would take its place...

_Am I flying? Is this a dream? What's happening?_

It was just as she inclined her head to see another person, dressed in velvety robes, inexplicably whirling beside her, lithe and graceful like a violet butterfly, when the confusion abruptly stopped.

Everything ceased to rush around her. There were no longer tornado-like gusts that ringed in her ears or an alien sense of weightlessness. The atmosphere was quiet and cold, and the air faintly smelled of burning kerosene. Everything that had melted into air had solidified again.

Lily yelped instinctually, losing her balance as her feet suddenly found hard stone ground. Instead of tumbling face-first into the floor, a pair of arms caught her around the waist and held her securely.

"Are you alright?"

Disorienting purple and blue specks were all Lily could see behind her shut eyelids; when she finally opened them, she was met by two sets of curious blue eyes. As Lily turned to look at Lord Dumbledore, she noticed a small, amused smile curving his lips, an expression which starkly contrasted Frank's apprehensive gaze.

"F-F-Frank...I...we..._wow_." Lily sputtered awkwardly, so shocked by what she had just endured that she couldn't bring herself to move out of Frank's stalwart arms.

"Do you feel well?" Frank probed again, searching Lily's dazed face for any signs of trauma; he felt a pang in his gut when she helplessly looked up at him, raw vulnerability shining behind her eyes.

"I don't know...I think so." Lily replied shakily, letting Frank help her to her feet, but keeping a firm hold of his arm in order to regain her center of balance. He awkwardly stiffened, though she was too bewildered to notice, "I don't like that...whatever we did."

"For a first-time portkey traveller, you did very well, my dear." Dumbledore smiled assuredly; he pocketed the spy-glass and offered his arm to Lily, which she nervously accepted: "Now, I beg you to pardon my hastiness, but I should like to escort you to my private quarters where we can dine. Lord Longbottom, I appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule to assist me in transporting my niece. I should very much like you to come back and breakfast with us tomorrow."

_Niece? _

"I would be delighted, Lord Dumbledore." Frank replied cordially, bowing toward them both—his eyes lingering a little longer on a spot above Lily's shoulder—before swiftly turning away from them and heading out a large set of wooden doors encrusted with a golden emblem.

As Frank hurried off, Lily's eyes became unfocused; she thought it strange how formal Dumbledore and Frank suddenly were with each other...it was as if they had made a personality switch...and she faintly wondered why Dumbledore referred to her as his niece. It seemed she was no less confused than she was a minute ago; the plot continued to thicken.

Just as she was about to voice her latest question, cool night air drifted in from the outside grounds and prickled Lily's warm skin; the chill woke Lily up from her stupor and made her abruptly aware of her surroundings.

She was standing in the middle of an _enormous_ castle entrance. The ceiling was nearly 100 metres high, perhaps higher, and long woollen banners, coloured blue, yellow, green and red, hung from it regally. The walls were hewn from grey, ancient stone and were papered with tapestries and oil portraits, while torches casted dancing shadows on them, making the castle appear animate. Flanking the entrance hall was a matching set of staircases which curled upward like giant snakes; the prospect of climbing them and further exploring was an exciting one.

Lily swallowed every detail in child-like wonderment. Everything from the rusty suits of armour to the shadowed alcoves enamoured her.

"This is a _school_?" Lily rasped unbelievingly, her eyes wide as she turned to Dumbledore.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was built nearly a thousand years ago. You'll find it's filled with many old secrets." Dumbledore recited mysteriously, a twinkle in his eye as he registered Lily's enthusiasm; she was like a student on her first day of school, "We will make sure you get a full tour very soon."

"I would love that." Lily smiled undauntedly, her troubles momentarily forgotten.

"Now," Dumbledore said, much softer and stricter than before, "until we get into my dining chambers, you must do something for me."

"What?" Lily whispered back, alarmed that Dumbledore's character had reverted again.

"You will go along with everything I say without question. I will do all the talking, and you will agree." Dumbledore requested seriously, though he followed with a paternal smile and said more loudly: "Let's be off, my dear."

Lily was slightly alarmed by what Dumbledore insisted of her, but decided it was probably best to obey him, as she had trusted him up until that point and he hadn't yet failed her. Taking his offered arm, Dumbledore led Lily forward.

The doors Frank had just exited from were fashioned of fat planks of wood and were parallel to matching door on the opposite side of the entrance hall. Dumbledore led Lily through the creaky doors, which Lily noticed were etched with an emblem depicting four mismatched animals, and opened up a whole new scene.

"This is the Great Hall, where students take their meals."

Lily barely registered Dumbledore's words. The Great Hall was massive in size, like the entrance hall, but much grander and warmer. Four lengthy tables stretched across the stone room, and one table stretched horizontally before it, raised on a platform. The same banners that hung in the entrance hall were strung there, each above a specific table, and fireplaces danced with flames along the walls. There were many windows, which made Lily imagine it being very bright and airy during the day. The hall's most magnificent feature, however, was the crystalline ceiling which was charmed to look like the night sky; it was a clear night, so the stars flickered prominently against their dark canvass. It was unlike anything Lily could have ever dreamed...

She was so preoccupied with the enchanted ceiling she jumped when an unfamiliar, sallow voice sounded after Lord Dumbledore's.

"Severus! I see you too are dining at this late hour."

"Headmaster Dumbledore..." the man responded in a tentative, dark voice, rising from his seat at one of the tables, where he was eating while awkwardly bent over a thick book, "Yes...I lost account of the time."

Lily's gaze regretfully shifted from the ceiling to man before her; however, she found him just as intriguing. Dressed from head to foot in a black robe, the young man had straight black hair which fell beyond his ears, a long, slightly crooked nose, ashen lips and dark, analytical eyes. He had a tall and thin frame, which was disguised by his billowy robes, and remarkably statuesque posture. He looked to be in his early twenties, perhaps a few years older than herself.

"Ah yes, time can run amuck when we least desire it to, and become stationary when we wish it away." Dumbledore eloquently asserted, congenially smiling at the emotionless figure.

Lily noticed the man seemed visibly uncomfortable with the exchange; she gathered he wasn't the social type, initiating a conversation only out of necessity rather than out of enjoyment for the English language.

"Did you have a... _pleasant_ trip to Canada?" the man inquired politely, his voice monotonous; for the first time, Lily caught his gaze momentarily fixing on herself. When he quickly averted his eyes, she began to wonder if his discomfort was not common, but a product of her presence...

"Very pleasant. Ottawa is lovely in the summer months, but I much prefer winter in Quebec. I find Canadian winters have a more beatific quality about them." Dumbledore lied convincingly; Lily tried to keep the confusion from showing on her porcelain face as he continued, "But here I am rambling when I should be providing introductions! Severus, this is my niece, Aurora...Aurora, this is one of the young teachers here at Hogwarts, Professor Severus Snape."

_WHAT? _

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Aurora." Severus greeted squarely, his investigative eyes matching Lily's conflicting ones; she gulped, suddenly becoming panicked that she wasn't following Dumbledore's instructions and convincingly going along with his inexplicable lies.

"Thank you. It's nice to meet... you." Lily attempted to deliver evenly, her hands becoming sweaty as she had already stupidly forgotten his name.

As he raised an eyebrow in what Lily perceived to be scepticism, she thought she glimpsed passing doubt in the dark stranger's eyes; he quickly turned his attention back to Dumbledore, giving no hint of sentiment, "Have you brought your niece here for a brief visit?"

"I do wish the terms of Aurora's stay were more light-hearted. Unfortunately, my sister Arianna has fallen quite ill and can no longer provide for Aurora while in hospital. As her father has passed, Aurora will be staying with me until her mother recovers." Dumbledore explained solemnly, patting Lily on the shoulder sympathetically; she wondered if she should try and look more upset than baffled, "Actually, I had been meaning to ask you for a favour, Severus."

"Yes?" Snape replied stiffly, his staunchly polite act beginning to crumble.

"You see, Aurora has spent most of her life nursing her mother and therefore has missed out on quite a bit of magical schooling. As you are spending the summer living at Hogwarts, I was hoping you might tutor her in your spare time. I regret that I will be unable to due to my involvement with the Ministry as of late. You would be doing a great service to me."

Severus remained silent for a moment—Lily guessed he was inwardly shouting profanity—than bowed his head in dutiful submission, "Of course. I shall aid Aurora in anything you ask of me, Headmaster."

Lily frowned. His dry obedience communicated his dissatisfaction with being settled with such a burden. _I wonder if I'm going to hate this as much as he is._

"Excellent. I think it should only take a day to get Aurora settled, so you can start in two days time. That should give you enough time to prepare lesson plans." Dumbledore spoke authoritatively, but gently, "We are off to have a late dinner now. I apologize for the interruption, Severus; I do hope your meal hasn't become cold."

"Enjoy your evening, Headmaster. Aurora." Snape nodded cordially towards Lily, but before she could catch his eye again, he had turned his dark stare toward the ground. He did not seem the least bit interested in her—rather, she was a nuisance he was now forced to tutor.

Lily could tell there was something ominous and deeply secretive about him, though rather than repelling her, his demeanour fascinated her.

Without another word, Dumbledore escorted Lily away from Severus Snape, who sat alone in the Great Hall, towards a door which led to a small dining area.

The quaint room had a round table and six chairs, a little window that looked out onto the shadowed grounds, and an unlit fireplace. Dumbledore motioned for Lily to take a seat, and as she timidly did, he extracted his wand and sent a robust ball of fire barrelling into the fireplace. The dried kindling immediately caught and sent a wave of heat into the room.

"Will I learn how to do things like that from Professor Snape?" Lily inquired, her eyes glazing over at the prospect of learning magic; her thoughts continued to drift as she regarded the flickering fire.

Dumbledore pocketed his wand and gracefully took a seat across from Lily. Once comfortably arranged, the wizard clasped his sinewy hands on the table and donned his characteristic smile: "You will be tutored in a number of subjects, including Transfiguration, Charms, Defence against the Dark Arts, Potions and Magical History. Should those subjects go well, I might add Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. I would prefer you to be well versed in all magical areas to convincingly integrate you into the magical community, but we shall take it slow in the beginning."

Lily gulped, overwhelmed; she knew her previous scholarship wasn't going to help her now. She felt compelled to continue to question her lessons, but knew there were much more important things to be discussed. Lily paused, ready to begin questioning the old wizard, but found she didn't know where to begin.

"Before we delve into explanations, I should like to eat. Are you hungry?" Dumbledore asked lightly, his eyes unblinking as he regarded Lily; she couldn't help but fidget nervously under his gaze.

"I'm starving." Lily replied bluntly, having ignored her growling stomach all day; there hadn't really been an opportunity to eat, what with her _almost_ abduction and subsequent relocations.

"Excellent." Dumbledore beamed at the young girl, then inclined his head ever so slightly to the side, "Rhett, I should require your assistance, please."

Lily cocked an eyebrow, wondering who Dumbledore was talking to; however, a moment later she had to stifle a scream when an odd little creature suddenly popped into existence right in the middle of the table. The old wizard smiled.

The creature—which had long, bat-like ears and eyes the size of crystal balls—was barely two feet tall and dressed in what appeared to be a clean, floral-patterned tea cosy. Its bony, straggly frame was slightly hunched in submission as it regarded Lord Dumbledore; all Lily could do was gape at the grotesque little thing. It did, however, look oddly familiar...

"Ah, there you are. I do hope I haven't interrupted any of your work, Rhett." Dumbledore spoke politely and pleasantly.

"Master Dumbledore _never _interrupts Rhett. Rhett lives to serve his master!" the elf squeaked automatically, affection glassing over his bulbous eyes, "What can Rhett do for master Dumbledore this evening?"

"I've just arrived from a long trip with my niece, Lady Aurora Rockford. We should like some dinner, if you please. What was on the menu this evening?" Dumbledore ordered congenially.

"Of course, master Dumbledore. I-It's a pleasure meeting the Lady Rockford!" the elf hurriedly turned to Lily, who looked utterly dumbstruck, and bowed deeply; "Lemon-peppered halibut on a bed of garlic mashed potatoes and greens was the entree this evening, followed by a fruit and custard dessert. Would you like me to have two plates made up for master and his niece?"

Lily was surprised that such fancy food would be served at a school; then again, Dumbledore was a lord and the school was, in fact, a castle. She hadn't had such an elaborate meal since...

"_A bottle of your finest Bordeaux, if you please…"_

Lily cringed, a sinking feeling in her stomach suddenly making her lose her appetite.

"_I'm not one for expensive wine. I'll have a beer, whatever is on tap…"_

"Are you partial to fish, my dear?" Dumbledore inquired, his blue eyes probing Lily's distant face; she looked up and tried to wipe the forlorn expression from her porcelain features, "It looks like the very idea has turned you green!"

"I love fish." Lily weakly smiled, suppressing the nostalgic images that were flooding her mind; she would face that truth later.

Dumbledore turned and smiled at the elf, seemingly disregarding Lily's sudden wave of sadness; "Two orders, if you please, with a bottle of _pino grigio_."

"Yes, master Dumbledore!" the elf obediently answered. Less than a minute later, the elf had reappeared with two heaping plates of food and a bottle of white wine. With precision, the elf poured the sweet liquid into two gold-plated goblets and laid the bottle to rest in an ice bucket. Lily half smiled at the gremlin as he bowed again and popped out of existence with a resounding **crack**.

"What was that creature?" Lily whispered across the table to Dumbledore, wondering if she should keep her voice down in case the little thing reappeared.

"No need to whisper, my dear; Rhett won't reappear unless I beckon for him." Dumbledore replied warmly, putting his glass of white wine to his withered lips before continuing, "Rhett is a house elf; there are many in service at Hogwarts. They work in the kitchens, tidy up common rooms, do laundry...domestic duties which are necessary to perpetuate the workings of this school. As you can see, they can appear and reappear at will, and they possess unprecedented magical ability—magic which wizards access with the aid of a wand. But, as you have experienced, wizards can perform magic without on occasion."

Lily bit the bottom of her lip; she wasn't even aware of the numerous times she had performed wandless magic over the years—magic which had wreaked a modest amount of havoc in St. Madeline's…

"Speaking of wands, I have arranged Olivander, the best wand-maker in Britain, to bring some of his fares down to the castle tomorrow morning so we can purchase you one of your own." Dumbledore informed Lily, who suddenly sunk lower in her chair, if possible, "I will also arrange one of the house elves to take you into Hogsmeade village to purchase a new wardrobe…I do apologize that we weren't able to appropriate any of your belongings from St. Madeline's. I'm sure you understand it is far too risky to return for them."

Lily gulped; she idly pushed the vegetables around on her plate, not having heard the last bit of Dumbledore's speech. She suddenly felt inexplicably terrified that Lord Dumbledore had made a grave mistake and would instantly ship her back to London once he knew the truth: "That all sounds wonderful, Lord Dumbledore, but…I haven't any _money_ to pay for all this. I barely have a penny to my name. I-I'm sorry, I thought that with everything going on you _knew_, I-I—"

Lily couldn't bear to look the older man in the face, embarrassment and shame burning behind her eyes. All her life she'd been in the company of the wealthy, except when she'd lived in an orphanage, and her lack of parentage and fortune had always made her the object of ridicule. She wasn't a materialistic person, but the facts still bothered her; she was the girl with a crown of flowers, unable to escape the surrounding crowns of gold.

Dumbledore reached across the small table and put a comforting hand atop Lily's; it was warm and withered, and when she looked up, his smile was genuinely sympathetic. For barely knowing the man—_or wizard, was there a difference?_—Lily took great comfort in his presence, making her fleetingly wonder if he had cast a spell to make her trust him.

What she didn't notice was that when she touched Dumbledore's hand, nothing happened…

"My dear, there is so much I must explain to you…so much that you are unaware of. You have no knowledge of your family, or the past which has shaped your present."

A pronounced pause followed. The fork in Lily's hand dropped to the hard wood floor with a clang, her eyes ablaze as she met Dumbledore's significant stare. She was too stunned to formulate a response.

"Just recently, I discovered it…and I can assure you, everything you believe about your family is _wrong_, including your belief that they have left you penniless." Dumbledore said softly, courteously breaking to allow Lily to absorb his meaning; he seemed calm about her physical reaction.

Lily hands had balled into fists, the skin around her knuckles turning an angry red with the pressure, and her sharp eyes narrowed sceptically and harshly. It appeared her breathing had picked up, her rigid shoulders pitching up and down more frequently, and her jaw was clenched tightly. For a petite red head, she looked quite intimidating…practically _lethal_.

The fear in Lily's stomach was forgotten, replaced with the familiar, tormenting misery that had coursed through her bloodstream and burned like acid ever since she was born. In a few simple sentences, Dumbledore had reopened her old wounds, and Lily was _furious_ about it…furious that he was making her suffer it again.

How the _hell_ could he possibly know about her family? She didn't even know anything, except what her mother and father had looked like from the little pictures in her locket. _Which you smashed, might I remind you_.

Angry tears began to puddle in the corners of Lily's eyes; the hot blood that was rushing to her head threatened unconsciousness, while phlegm building in her throat threatened to choke her.

The candles in the room sputtered suddenly, casting dancing lights on the paneled walls.

"To HELL with civility! If there is one thing I've learned in that _rotten_ school, it's that it gets you nowhere fast. I want to know what you know about me and why I'm here _this second_, Dumbledore!" Lily mustered with as much fury as she could possibly muster; she felt slightly deflated when the old man did not so much as flinch.

Dumbledore calmly watched Lily rise to her feet from across the table, looking vulnerable and childlike, salty tears sliding down her flushed cheeks and uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

"My dear, I shall tell you everything I know about you and your family, as well as the role you will be playing here at Hogwarts. I do apologize for pressing upon your patience and trust as I have." Dumbledore spoke sensitively, his eyes softening from beneath his half-moon spectacles.

The energy that had surged through Lily and triggered her anguished outburst had vanished, leaving her abruptly fatigued. Lily sighed; she was silently frustrated that she couldn't stay mad at Dumbledore when he had such a wilted expression on his face. Remaining incensed was an exhausting prospect, and it had been a _long_ day.

"O.K." Lily responded simply, too tired to argue or feel ashamed.

_A long day? Bit of an understatement._

With droopy eyes, Lily watched Dumbledore cross the room and tug on a fringed piece of rope, which was draped beside a finely-sewn tapestry of what appeared to be a flying horse. With this motion, the tapestry rolled upwards, revealing a blank stone wall.

"_Devil's Snare_." Dumbledore whispered secretively, running a sinewy hand across the wall methodically.

Loudly, pieces of the stone wall slide backwards from the ground up—scraping against each other like nails on a chalkboard—to reveal a shadowed staircase that ascended upwards into a hidden passage. Lily gulped, still mildly rapt in the presence of magic.

Once the dust from the newly hewn passage settled, Dumbledore turned and held out his hand for Lily, "Shall we? This conversation should take place in a more private setting."

The cool, stagnant air that drifted into the dining room from the passage sent chills up Lily's arm. She took Dumbledore's grizzled hand and let him swiftly lead her up the spooky staircase, wondering what answers would await her above.

* * *

The Headmaster's office was as captivating as the Great Hall, but it housed even more wonderful, wraithlike things.

The oval-shaped room was filled with spinning trinkets, books and golden instruments housed in ochre shelves that reached up to the tall ceiling. In the middle of the room was a grand desk with a throne-like chair nestled behind it, and nearby was a generous stone basin which resembled an oversized bird-bath. Most curious of all was an intricate perch near the desk that appeared to have been designed from melted bullion; it was empty.

It was like living in the faded pages of an old photo album, for a dozen or more portraits were fixed on the stone walls like pieces of a puzzle. The framed oil paintings depicted an assortment of oddly dressed men and women, most of who appeared to be sleeping. Some, such as former headmaster Newton Scamander, watched the secret passage on the western wall abrasively slide open with a peaked sense of interest.

Dumbledore regally emerged, old dust swirling at his feet, a frazzled Lily not far behind him. Her eyes darted about the magnificent office in subdued amazement before Dumbledore ushered her into another comfortable chair and delicately touched her hand from across his desk to gain her attention. Lily blinked back her hollow trance as she turned to him, a sense of foreboding settling in her throat.

"Quite something, isn't it?" Lord Dumbledore remarked calmly, gesturing his gnarled hands towards the portraits, "You will certainly become accustomed to moving portraits, now that you will be dwelling in this castle."

_Like some sort of fugitive princess…_

"Who are the people in the pictures?" Lily quietly inquired, fidgeting in her chair as she suddenly felt nervous, many of the portrait occupants looking down at her quizzically. She attempted a smile when Dilys Derwent gave her a little wave, but it instead resembled a painful twitch.

"These are former headmasters and mistresses of Hogwarts. They are meant to advise those who currently hold the position. Portraits act as mere imprints of a person after they have died." Dumbledore smiled at Lily's intrigue; he could tell she was bursting with questions, but battling to remain composed, "You will begin to understand more as you continue to be exposed to the magical world. Let us first discuss matters closer to your heart."

Lily's throat constricted, her stomach lurching anxiously; she gripped the arms of her chair and bore into Lord Dumbledore's sapphire eyes. The magic which had besieged her life suddenly seemed darker: "My parents."

The patrician wizard nodded, nostalgia reflecting behind his spectacles.

"Your parents…their names were Marquis and Esmeralda Everard." Dumbledore began carefully; he paused for a moment, watching the young girl's eyes fill with a mixture of confusion and melancholy.

_Everard…the name Frank called me before…_"Your father, Marquis, was a pureblood wizard from an old, infamous bloodline of magical aristocrats. The Everard family was composed of many famous individuals, including your grandfather who was once a headmaster here, at Hogwarts. Your father attended this school, in fact." Dumbledore offered Lily an encouraging, sympathetic smile; she could not bring herself to mirror it, "You inherited your formidable magical ability from him and his prestigious bloodline."

Lily had been struck speechless, enamored by Dumbledore's words; her mouth hung open in utter wonder and disbelief. Never in her wildest dreams could she have fantasized such a heritage for herself. _My dad was a wizard…_

"What…what about my mother?" Lily inquired hoarsely, overwhelmed and surprised; she had barely scratched the surface of the story and already felt dazed.

"Your mother, Esmeralda, was a muggle—a non-magical human. Unfortunately, I know less of her than of your father, as she did not enter the magical world until her marriage. Due to her heritage and upbringing, your father was nearly disinherited for taking Esmeralda as his bride; I imagine Lord and Lady Everard hoped for a noble union for their son—something to bring prestige to the family and ensure the continuance of a magical, pure bloodline." Dumbledore laughed without humor, "Marquis was a stubborn man, and it was apparent he deeply loved your mother. He lived a quiet life away from court and the magical aristocracy once he married, inhabiting one of the family estates in Ireland."

Lily felt a sudden swelling of pride: "Was he disinherited?"

"No, your grandfather eventually accepted the marriage. Marquis was a beloved son, and the only heir to the bloodline. Despite your mother being a muggle, there was great hope that a magical son would be born." Dumbledore's lips curled upwards, a twinkle in his mischievous eyes, "It wasn't long before Esmeralda was with child. It wasn't the baby boy that was hoped for by your grandparents, but the baby girl was cherished all the same."

"…Me?" Lily questioned quietly, suddenly feeling numb to the thought of being loved by her parents and family; it was an idea she had never allowed herself. Wasn't she abandoned by choice, as she had always thought?

"Lily Everard." Dumbledore affirmed, benevolently reaching out to pat the top of Lily's hand, "Your mother and father were captivated by you; your grandfather, a good friend of mine, spoke of you lovingly. You were to live a charmed life, eventually attending school here and being presented in court…but, a plan that was brewed before your birth altered the lives of you, your parents, and the Everard bloodline considerably."

"A plan? Who was behind it? Is it the reason I've been in the dark about my family, my very _identity_, until recently?" Lily brusquely demanded, images of what could have been—a happy family, a charmed life, the magical world—suddenly flashing before her, "Does it have to do with those wizards trying to capture me back at St. Madeline's?"

Dumbledore rose from his chair, suddenly looking especially tired and old. He lithely walked toward a bookcase, his crushed velvet robes trailing behind him, and idly ran one of his spindly fingers along the jacket of one of the aged books; his voice took on a darker tone.

"As you have witnessed, not all wizards are of noble spirit. Around the time of your parent's marriage, there was a sinister uprising being perpetuated by a very dark wizard…_Tom Riddle_." Dumbledore explained despondently, slowly turning to face Lily again; her brow was scrunched in ignorant confusion, "He later took on the title _Lord Voldemort_, the name to which everyone refers to him now. Voldemort is an exceptionally powerful wizard who wishes to attain power and oppressively rule the magical community as supreme dictator; the magic he exercises is both dark and unlawful, and he has committed heinous acts of evil against both wizards and muggles. His very name strikes fear in the hearts of the magical community and, though we have strived to apprehend him, he still runs rampant."

Lily crinkled her nose in skepticism, not fully understanding the frightening nature of the dark wizard. Suddenly, an image of a dark-haired man with a silly moustache and Nazi pin on his lapel popped into her head.

_This Voldemort must be quite similar to Hitler...minus the magic thing.  
_  
"But…you have magic; can't you and the rest of the government, or the magical police, or…_someone _stop him? He is only one wizard…"

Dumbledore paused and closed his eyes, heaving a soft sigh, "Powerful wizards, including myself, have tried, but you must understand he _also_ possesses magic and a loyal following who share in his disturbing ideology. Lord Voldemort and his deatheaters keep themselves well hidden; the identities of his followers are largely unknown, as they operate secretly. Many move among us in society, court, and even this school, completely incognito."

Lily bit the bottom of her lip, her eyes moistening with the alarming knowledge; she bravely rose from her chair and approached Dumbledore, who was lifelessly stirring his knotted wand in a basin filled with silvery liquid, seemingly distracted.

"Those men at the school… they were _deatheaters_. What could this... _Voldemort_ and his followers possibly want with me?" Lily whispered urgently, the eerie white glow that emitted from the strange substance making her skin appear unnaturally porcelain. She could not fathom why such an infamous wizard would be interested in her, an unlearned witch of no consequence.

Dumbledore did not reply straight away, rather continuing to methodically stir his wand in a counter-clockwise motion. Lily searched his face for any hint of emotion, trying to judge whether she had legitimate reason to worry, but he remained even and composed.

_Then again, if this evil warlock has sent his henchmen after me, I suppose I do have reason to worry..._

Dumbledore opened his eyes and took in the lovely image of the vulnerable-looking girl, a feeling of intense pity stabbing his gut. He felt guilty knowing the naive girl's world was about to change and that everything she knew was a lie, a planned _facade_ meant to protect her. Lily had been a target ever since her birth, and until Voldemort was dead, she would not be safe...

"I'm sorry your introduction to the magical world was not as joyful and electrifying as it is for many eleven-year-olds." Dumbledore apologized solemnly, the usual twinkle in his blue eyes replaced with remorse.

Lily was struck by his genuineness, the emotion behind his low voice fraught with paternal care. It was obvious that Dumbledore was burdened by what he was about to tell her; Lily's blood suddenly ran cold with fear.

_What makes me important to Voldemort...?_ It clicked.

"He...he did something to my parents, didn't he?" Lily murmured faintly, her eyes becoming clouded as she serenely looked into the intricate stone basin before her; for a moment, she thought she saw ghostly faces appear in the hoary liquid...

She felt detached from her surroundings.

One minute she'd been in a trance, the images of her mother and father from her locket swirling before her, smiling. She envisioned the family manor in the country, what it would have been to live there with them...a _charmed_ life...a life of happiness and love. The next minute, she was slumped in a chair, Dumbledore offering a filled goblet to her lips. Without even thinking, Lily drank the contents, the numbness she felt mingling with a sense of warmth; she did not even think to ask what it was she was drinking. It didn't matter; not in that moment.

Dumbledore crouched before the girl, taking her hands and looking into her limp face with a brave sense of resolve, "Lily...Voldemort wanted you and your parents dead, believing your family to have the power to destroy him and his malicious plot. Your parents went into hiding with you when you were born, but it was not long until he found your parents. When they realized they were close to being captured, they hid you in a muggle orphanage in London and provided you with a fake name."

_They...they didn't abandon me?_

"Lily...the deatheaters caught up with your parents. They tried to get them to reveal your whereabouts, but they did not." Dumbledore tried to disclose the tale as gently as possible, but there was no articulate or easy way to tell Lily of her parent's death, "Voldemort was not aware of your whereabouts until a day ago..."

Lily closed her eyes, waiting for the anguish to wash over her, to paralyze her thoughts and overwhelm her conscious, but it did not throb the way she expected.

She'd always imagined her parents to be dead… but so cruelly taken from her? Murdered by a villainous dark wizard? Never in her wildest nightmares could she have conceived such a thing. This _Voldemort _had robbed Lily of her life, and he was still haunting her like an unseen shadow, apparently wanting her dead because of some breathtaking ability she was purported to possess.

Lily's sadness suddenly shifted to fear.

_He wants me dead...he's already killed my parents..._"How has he become aware of me?" Lily whispered quietly, the blood draining from her face and leaving her lips ashen, "Why..._now_?"

Dumbledore looked benevolent, worry filling his eyes as the life seemed to be suddenly sucked out of the young girl before him. Lily looked practically comatose, her unfocused eyes fixed on her lap, "Your parents left you a powerfully charmed item that, when near you, concealed any haphazard magic you might have accidentally displayed. I believe it was a locket."

Lily gasped, her surprised eyes meeting with Dumbledore's worried ones; she felt a pang of guilt in her gut due to the fresh memory, "The night the deatheaters came I...well, it doesn't matter why, but I _smashed_ my locket."

"_Ahh_...and your emotion that night translated into potent magic that made you noticeable to the deatheaters tracking occurrences of unregistered magic. Remember, they were looking for a _powerful_ witch. There were likely times you demonstrated small bouts of magic when you weren't wearing your necklace, but it likely wasn't enough to warrant suspicion." Dumbledore surmised intelligibly, "It is sheer coincidence that both Voldemort and I located you at the same time."

"But...how did you find me? Have you been looking for me all these years, too?" Lily asked briskly, visibly confused as to how Dumbledore knew what he did about her, "And if you have been looking for me, then why? Why has it become your responsibility to protect me? If you think I have some _power_ that can defeat this Voldemort, you are _very_ wrong!"

"You underestimate yourself, my dear." Dumbledore enunciated kindly, breathing a sigh of relief as Lily regained her spirit, "I have known of your existence for many years, but not of your whereabouts. It wasn't until the night you broke your locket that I became aware. I spent the night putting in place precautionary measures for your arrival here today, rather than finding you the moment I knew."

The elderly man's sun-kissed face contorted in sudden remorse; there was a battle taking place behind his blue orbs, "I see now that was a grave mistake on my part. I beg you to forgive me for putting your life in such danger; I thought I'd have enough time to exact my plan for your safe arrival here."

"Please don't apologize to me." Lily returned immediately, her face softening as she regarded Dumbledore, "From the sounds of it, you saved my life_._ You have been nothing but kind to me..." Her voice cracked, "I...I don't know how I can ever thank you...but I still don't understand why. _Why_ have you...and the others...made it your responsibility to protect me?"

Dumbledore's answer was simple and sincere; he offered her a meaningful smile "Because, my dear, you are _worth_ protecting."

Lily was dumbfounded; silent tears bristled in the corners of her eyes. For most of her life she had never believed she was worth her parents love, or that she was worth anyone's love. It was amazing how a few months—nay, a few hours—could shatter years worth of self-loathing.

"Frank, Kingsley, Moody and I...we are the only ones who know of your true identity now. We are part of a secret order...The Order of the Phoenix...a group of witches and wizards who have come together to fight and defeat Lord Voldemort. Protecting those he targets is integral to that mission. There are many of us, but I have only trusted three to help me protect you...you, who Voldemort sees as a threat to his power. Do you understand?"

"Yes...I think so." Lily replied quietly, feeling a bit more at ease knowing she had some wizards on her side; however, she wondered what sort of life she could possibly have now that Voldemort knew she was alive, "What am I going to _do_, Lord Dumbledore?"

_Will I remain in hiding forever?_

Dumbledore paused to read the young girl's face; she looked scared, tired, and lost...even with all the magic and new possibilities facing her, a cloud had cast its shadow over her. She had been plucked out of her world, found out her parents had been brutally killed, and now, that she was being hunted for reasons she couldn't, and _wouldn't_, understand. He wouldn't further burden her with the knowledge of the prophecy—that she was to marry a _royal_ and bear a child that would defeat the Dark Lord—nor would he tell her the Order depended on her to bring about their salvation. It would be too much for her to handle. No, Dumbledore would try to provide her with as normal a magical life as possible, steering her in the right direction when need be. She would live and mingle among the magical aristocracy—though never would she be known by her true name—so that she would meet and marry the prophesized royal. He would ensure Lily's guise was flawless; she'd be schooled in manners and every subject of magic, run in the proper social groups, and have an elaborate back story.

Dumbledore knew the best hiding places were those in plain sight.

"You will hereon be known as Lady Aurora Rockford, daughter of Lord Aquarius and Lady Arianna Rockford. My real sister _is_ Arianna, and she _is_ quite ill as of late. She has never been mentioned in the courts here...most don't even know I have a sister. We shall say Lord Aquarius, a fictious wizard, has died, but was once a wealthy, prominent Lord in the Dominion of Canada. As Arianna has taken ill and now resides in a medical ward in a magical hospital, you have come to live with me, your uncle. Having nursed your mother all your life, and due to her request that you never attend schooling, you have little to no magical training. You now live here, at Hogwarts with me, and at my request, are being newly tutored in magic by one of the teachers here. You _must_ stick to this story at all times, unless you are in this office with me, Frank, Moody or Kingsley." Dumbledore spoke fluently and seriously, unperturbed by Lily's shocked appearance.

"Why is such a back story necessary if I am to be in hiding?" Lily inquired, visibly confused, "Is it just to appease that teacher I met downstairs? Can't we trust him?"

"We can trust _no one_." Dumbledore stressed gravely, his gaze hardening to communicate his point; the expression did not become his gentle, withered face or mellow disposition.

"But how will this _Dark Lord_ know I'm at Hogwarts with you?" Lily questioned sceptically, feeling awkward as she referred to the odd title of the wizard who was pursuing her, "None of his followers are in this school, so they will never see or speak with me?"

"Ah, if that were only true. Voldemort's followers are everywhere; they operate in secret and are often hard to detect." Dumbledore explained despairingly, unhappy about the inconvenient truth, "Did you really think I was going to keep you locked in a tower, never to be seen or heard from again? With this disguise, as well as some physical modifications, you will be free to move about the castle, the nearby village, and court—might I add, court only with my supervision—all you like. My goal is to provide you with protection without completely depriving you of a life."

Lily thought the idea quite ingenious—and to her benefit—but she had never been a good actress, "What sort of physical changes?"

Dumbledore chuckled, some of the light returning to his eyes, "Well, I have already made some. I do hope you approve, though we haven't much room to change you now that Severus has gotten a look at you. Gaze into the mirror over there."

Lily balked, being unaware of any physical change that might have taken place. _I don't remember Dumbledore performed any spells on me?_ Was her nose bigger? Her lips thinner? Her eyes bulging? Only imagining negative alterations, Lily jumped up from her chair and crossed the room to where a large carved mirror hung. Leaning inwards, the image that met Lily made her girlishly yelp.

Her hair was longer and a deep chocolate colour—rather than red—while her eyes were not the piercing emerald they usually were; instead, they were a light blue like Dumbledore's. The soft freckling around her nose was also gone. Other than a re-colouring, Lily was the same. It was her...but not.

"Oh my..." Lily murmured in subdued astonishment, fingering her new brown tresses with wide, foreign eyes. Though Lily would still be considered a beauty, she would no longer stand out the way she used to. Rather than being a cynosure, she would blend in a crowd, appearing as a naive ingénue to court observers and those unaware of her true identity.

Lily's subdued gaze shifted from her malformed appearance to the greyed man who inaudibly approached her from behind and settled his wiry hands on her shoulders. He spoke kind-heartedly, "I am truly apologetic for having to disguise your natural beauty, Lily. If the other deatheater at your school glimpsed you, he will relay the information to Voldemort or recognize you should you ever encounter him. I am not willing to take another chance with your life."

A shudder snaked down Lily's spine at the thought of seeing the deatheaters again. She closed her eyes, swallowing back the dryness in her throat, before she opened them again to concentrate on her new image.

No more etiquette school, or nuns, or regular thrashing. No more mockery, contempt or derision. No more believing to be unloved and abandoned.

_Isn't this what you've always wanted?_

Instead, a witch. A lady of the court. The daughter of a sick woman and niece of the headmaster of a wizarding school. Secretly marked by a sordid, heart-breaking past, and facing a daunting future.

Images suddenly flooded Lily's head, blistering her vision and crippling her sense of apathy. Lily gasped painfully, her face scrunched up in agony as she pressed her hands to her temples and closed her eyes. She was confused...happy _and_ sad...utterly exhausted and overwhelmed.

"I think I have overwhelmed you enough for one day. I shall bring you to your room so you can get some much-needed sleep." Dumbledore said benignly, quiet worry etched on his aged face as he tried to decipher the unnerved look in her eyes, "It all seems impossible now, but I assure you, Lily, things will make more sense in the morning."

Lily nodded wordlessly, too tired to even respond.

_I woke up Lily Evans. I discovered I am Lily Everard. Now, I drift to sleep as Lady Aurora Rockford...  
_

* * *

Author's Notes

So...did you like it? =P

I AM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THE NEXT CHAPTER! It's going to be very angst-y! Anyone want to review to motivate me to write faster? ;)

Thanks must go out to my beautiful readers and reviewers! Xox

pratty_prongs_princesse


	15. Chapter 15

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 15: Rising from the Ashes (Part 1)

Waking up that morning had been a surreal experience. With morning came the realization that everything that had occurred the previous day wasn't a dream, or a hallucination, and that today everything would be different.

Strange how quickly things can change...

* * *

_Rain poured down onto the terrain, soaking the lush garden, and bolts of spindly lightening illuminated the storming sky. Thunder ominously rumbled, mixing with the distant clinking of expensive crystal from the party room. It was dark...the middle of the night...and the only light stemmed from the dirty street lamps beyond the perimeter of the property. _

_A girl with a torn dress was twirling nearby, eyes closed and mouth open to catch the saccharine raindrops that slide down her tongue. She spun like a child playing pretend games, vulnerable and free. Despite the cool summer night and the glittering precipitation, she looked joyous and enduring...an everlasting nymph born from the earth._

_He tentatively stepped forward into the rain, a sliver of light revealing him. He squinted to see past his rain-spattered spectacles...to see the face of the dreamlike figure. _

"_Lily?" he breathed uncertainly._

_The figure stopped spinning, coming to an abrupt halt before him. She stared at the ground, her hollow expression disguised by the wet hair that covered her waxen face, unmoving. _

_He stepped closer, his voice pitching hopefully: "Lily...is it you?"_

_She looked up perfunctorily, uncanny green eyes piercing through the darkness. At the sound of her eerie and far-flung voice, everything died around her...nothing else mattered._

_"You...left me."_

"_I...but I've come back for you like I said I would." he started earnestly, his heart twisting and writhing in his chest; something was strange, almost sinister about her, "We can be together now...I promise to never leave you again."_

_He fervently offered his hand to her, but she did not take it. She continued to regard him with a vacant, numb expression. The blissful dancing girl had evaporated at the sight of him, replaced with what was more like a mechanical corpse. _

"_We can't be together," the girl replied enigmatically, unblinking as she drew a pattern in the dirt with a stray tree branch. _

"_Why do you say that?" he inquired anxiously, scrunching up his troubled eyes, "What's wrong... Lily?"_

_He recoiled as the figure seductively slithered up beside him without breaking eye contact and clenched his hand. A chill crept up his spine. She stood on her tip-toes and leaned into him, her lips mere inches away from his ear, "We can't be together, my love...because I'm _dead_."_

_His face contorted in horror, his eyes widening in inexplicable fear, "No! It's not true! Your here with me now!"_

She looked back at him, malice and revulsion unnaturally spreading over her delicate features. She ripped her hand out of his grasp, her emerald orbs blackening, and sprinted in the opposite direction, disappearing into the abyss.

"_NO, LILY! COME BACK!"_

James jolted awake, releasing a mangled gasp as his eyes flew open in alarm. He breathed heavily, his eyes adjusting to the harsh, searing light, his face and neck drenched in sweat. He sat up in the bed he'd been sleeping in, one hand over his left breast to calm his speeding heart. _It was just a dream. _He swept the perspiration from his brow and looked around in confusion.

He was lying in a seaweed-coloured, cramped hospital room.

James shakily swung his legs from the bed to the ground, fumbling his hand on the night stand beside him in search of his glasses. Situating them on the bridge of his nose and regaining his vision, James became aware of the bed a few metres away from him, filled with another sleeping occupant. He recognized him immediately.

"_Sirius_?" James whispered confusedly, feeling disoriented and slightly inebriated. His head began to pound painfully: "Wake up, Sirius."

Sirius's face, though badly bruised and scarred, looked serene in slumber. His injuries did not register with James. He waited for Sirius to respond—to excitably lurch out of his sleep—but he did not stir. James stared at him for awhile, completely unaware that he was in a medically induced stupor which was the cause of his mystification and slow motor function.

James suddenly felt extremely thirsty—the kind of panicked, craving thirst that followed a night of heavy drinking—and grabbed a glass full of water on the nightstand beside Sirius' bed. As he put the glass to his mouth, James immediately spat out the liquid in disgust, smashing the cup to the floor at the same time. With a disgusted look on his face, he picked up the bottle on the table and read the label: _Skele-Gro_.

"_Disgusting_." James grumbled, setting the bottle back down.

Feeling queasy, James stumbled back towards his bed and sat down, leaning over so his head was practically between his knees. He eventually found some water on his nightstand and gulped it down quickly, breathing a sigh of relief as it comforted his burning throat.

_What the hell am I doing in a hospital? _James wondered half-heartedly, too physically exhausted to really care in that moment. James groaned, felling hung-over. His body yearned for him to climb back into bed and shut his eyes and mind to the questions that were clawing to the surface of his consciousness. Cradling his head, he willed the nausea that was threatening to overtake him to disappear.

It wasn't until ten minutes later—when the room stopped spinning—that things began to become clear.

James looked around again. He didn't recognize the putrid green walls of the hospital, the moving medical advertisements papered around the room, nor the clogged layout itself. He hastened to get up again—ignoring the stabbing pain in his shoulder—and tottered over to the window across from his bed. Expecting to see crowded streets, old buildings and honking automobiles, James was startled when his eyes met a very different scene.

_I'm in the countryside. This isn't St. Mungo's hospital...why am I not in London?_

Then, like a bullet to the temple, memories flooded his head with raucous images and sounds...memories that would haunt him, and all those involved, until the day he died.

_The city was blotched with orange-red fire that emitted opaque, polluted smoke. The air was a sooty black mess, the ground patched with destruction. The faint ringing of sirens floated from the city and mingled with the roar of plane engines; the RAF was in a frenzy, attempting to attack the German bomber planes and dodge oncoming gunfire from the escorts..._

_Smoke was swirling around Big Ben; the Thames was reflecting the fire that burned on its shores…_

James winced, his stomach twisting into knots. He turned his gaze from the window to where Sirius safely slept, suddenly aware of how close he had come to dying the day before.

_The slender, camouflaged body of the airplane, which only momentarily was agilely manoeuvring amongst the clouds, was barrelling towards the ground—more specifically the English Channel—as fast as gravity and velocity would allow, a swirl of smoke issuing from the tail. The silhouette of the jumping dog Sirius had painted was perpendicular to the earth, leaping to its fate..._

James had reached Sirius in enough time to cushion his plane's impact with the water. He had used the same spell on himself, too, but it had not prepared him for the unforgiving embrace of the English Channel.

He had hit his head on something hard upon impact, but he remembered the pain was nothing compared to the sting of the cold water seeping in his lungs. He wasn't sure how long he'd been struggling underwater until he'd started to scrape for the surface.

James had found a floating piece of debris to stay afloat with. Half-conscious, he'd lifelessly watched burning bits of the destroyed Spitfire gently drift on the waves, wondering what had happened to his best friend...if he had survived the crash, or if he too was floating somewhere nearby. He hadn't possessed the strength to look for him or help himself...he didn't even know where his wand was.

For a long while, time ceased to exist.

Then, out of nowhere, a pair of arms had pulled him out of the water and the blackness of unconsciousness has ensued...

_How did I get here?_ James wondered as he helplessly looked around, his lack of knowledge aggravating him. He knew he and Sirius had been recovered by magical authorities (the hospital was evidence of that), perhaps even by the Order, and they had likely located him after he had demonstrated significant amounts of magic to save Sirius whilst in a high-alert warzone. What he didn't know was what kind of consequences he and Sirius would be facing for breaching both magical law and Dumbledore's orders...

The consequences, however, meant little at that moment. There were much bigger things to worry about.

James suddenly heard a pair of muffled voices sound from outside the hospital doors. Struggling to his feet again, he quietly shuffled to the door and pressed his ear against the warm wood. He recognized only one of the disembodied voices.

"...strict orders that they both remain here until Alastor Moody arrives, do you understand?"

"I understand completely, but whatever am I and the staff to do if either awakes and demands to leave? Neither Lord Potter nor Lord Black are of proper health to leave this facility, but I have encountered angry nobility before, and they are _not_ easily persuaded."

"You can inform them that they have broken magical law, and it will serve them well to quietly obey orders rather than be publicly arrested; that is, unless they don't care about their reputations remaining intact."

"They would have me _fired_ for saying such a thing!"

"You can tell them Kingsley Shacklebolt has passed along the message."

James heard the healer grumble irritably: "I still don't understand why members of the magical enforcement agency are not dealing with these war enthusiasts. What are two Aurors doing mixed up in such trivial affairs?"

"To be frank, that is none of your business. Now, please do as I've said. You will alert no one of their identities, should a media circus ensue, and you are, under _no_ circumstances, allowed to let either Potter or Black leave this premises. Also, should any problems occur, you are to contact me or Alastor Moody, _no one else_."

James flinched, backing away from the door. Kingsley was trying to keep his and Sirius' infringement under wraps, ensuring that two Order members—both of whom were Aurors, and could therefore convincingly assert jurisdiction—would deal with them. He reckoned Kingsley knew it would not benefit the Order to have two of its most active members locked away in Azkaban...not that either he or Sirius could easily buy their way out of the charges.

However, as guilty as James felt about putting the Order in a tough position, there was _no chance_ he would obligingly be remaining in hospital.

Hearing the two wizards walk away, James slipped out of his hospital robs and into the now dry air-force uniform he had crashed in hours ago. As his wand was nowhere to be found, he slipped Sirius' wand out of his jacket pocket and into his own, determination settling on his battered face.

Before disapparating, James despondently looked over to Sirius' sleeping form, poisonous dread seeping into his gut: "I'll be back, Sirius. Don't get into anymore trouble without me."

James closed his tired eyes, gripping his friend's wand tightly. The image of the old academy building, with its hallowed halls and creeper vines, filled the blackness. He concentrated on it hard, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling anxiously. James took a deep breath, battling the nagging pessimism that told him he was about to plunge into his nightmare again.

_Lily...please don't be dead.  
_

* * *

Author's Notes

You didn't give up hope that I'd stop writing, did you?

Thought I'd leave my faithful readers with a little tidbit of a chapter to get you excited for the next, which I will likely be posting this week! I'm really enjoying writing it so far. Why you ask?

Here's a hint: Severus Snape.

So, if you are excited for the next chapter, and you'd like to motivate me to write it faster, please **review**! I love hearing from all of you!

pratty-prongs-princesse


	16. Chapter 16

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 16: Rising from the Ashes (Part 2)

_It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change._

_-Darwin_

* * *

Lily sat on one of the window sills in her octagonal dormitory room and watched the orange-yellow sun rise over the horizon in the east, its cock-crow essence reaching the banks of the lake that rested before the regal steps of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—an expansive, antediluvian castle secretly nestled in the Scottish highlands. Further to the west was a mysterious forest that stretched miles back into the fogged hills, a little wooden cottage with an overgrown lettuce garden and thatched roof situated just before its tree line.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh air that floated in from the crisp grounds. It was hard to believe that only a day ago she had been at St. Madeline's, plotting a way to escape the school after two intruders—what she knew now to be _deatheaters_—had come to kidnap her. _Her_, Lily Evans, an orphaned schoolgirl of no consequence or importance.

At least, that's who she'd thought she was.

In virtually one day, Lily's world had been turned upside down; the only truth she'd ever known had been shattered, revealing she'd been living a concealed existence—a _half_ life—ignorant of her heritage and hidden from the world in which she rightly belonged, all because a dark wizard—_Voldemort_—believed she had the power to destroy him. _Unlikely._

The unfathomable madness of the past day had left her here, a quiet dormitory room located in one of the multiple towers of a _magic_ castle. Lily had a new identity, a new disguise, and was now surviving in an entirely foreign world filled with mythical people and creatures she'd once thought only existed in fairytales.

_How am I going to pull this off...?_

A small knock sounded at the dormitory door, breaking Lily from her thoughts. Clenching her satin robe close to her body, Lily tentatively crossed the room and opened it, staring expectantly into the stone hallway. She frowned confusedly. Nobody was there.

"Good morning, Lady Rockford." a tiny voice peeped below Lily, making her jump nearly a foot into the air.

Surprised, Lily's gaze shifted downwards, stopping on the form of a female house-elf dressed in a clean dish towel patterned with daisies. The long-eared creature held a tremendously_ large_ tray—blatantly ill-suited to her small proportions—overflowing with tea pots and china plates filled with assorted breakfast foods.

"H-H-Hello!" she stammered back, trying to regain her senses. She didn't know what would take more getting used to: talking to little storybook elves, or being referred to by a different, completely _fictional_ name.

"Sorry if Mimi has disturbed you, mi'lady. Master Dumbledore sends his apologies for not being able to join you for breakfast, as he is dining with another guest. He requests you meet him in the Transfiguration classroom at 10 a.m. this morning for a special appointment." Mimi the house-elf reiterated cordially, though she looked a bit nervous around Hogwart's newest resident, "Where would you like Mimi to set down your breakfast?"

Lily suddenly looked panicked, her eyes growing wide: "I-I don't know where that classroom is. It would probably take me hours just to figure out where the front door of the castle is, nevermind a classroom I've never seen..."

"Not to worry, mi'lady! Someone will be waiting down in the Gryffindor common room to escort you there." Mimi said assuredly, suddenly looking stricken, "My apologies if Mimi upset Lady Rockford..."

"Please don't apologize, Mimi. You didn't upset me...it's just going to take me awhile to get used to all this." Lily explained feebly, motioning her hands around the room in slight exasperation, "Between you and I...I'm not very good at the whole _magic_ thing just yet."

Mimi looked simply appalled.

"Lady Rockford is a _great_ witch; this Mimi is sure of!" the house-elf squeaked in an insistent voice, her eyes suddenly shining in adoration, "Lady Rockford is, after all, the niece of Lord Dumbledore, the _greatest_ wizard of all time!"

_House-elves are so peculiar..._

"That's very kind of you to say, Mimi. And please, call me L—_Aurora_." Lily crouched down, giving the dumbfounded house-elf a sincere look; she was actually starting to think, despite their pointy ears and globular eyes, house-elves were sort of _adorable_, "That's what my friends call me."

Mimi looked on the verge of dropping the oversized tray she carried, her skinny arms trembling so terribly that the dishes chattered. Her eyes bulged out, large crocodile tears welling and about to spill over onto her wrinkled cheeks.

"M-m-m-miss considers Mimi a-a-a..._friend_?" the house-elf stuttered.

Lily questioned why the house-elf was so stupefied by the notion. She wondered if it was against some magical code or law for wizards to be friends with house-elves. _I really need to start this magical education..._

"I would like to be your friend. I could certainly use your help getting adjusted to Hogwarts." Lily said earnestly, her brow crinkled in worry as she watched the house-elf steadily become more unhinged, "As long as it doesn't jeopardize your job here or something...?"

Mimi paused, setting down Lily's breakfast on the trunk by her bed and jumping up onto her mattress. The emotional creature sat there for a moment, bony legs dangling over the side of the bed, staring at Lily as if she were a goddess incarnate. Before she spoke again, she dabbed the corners of her wet eyes with the towel she wore.

"Lady Rockford is truly more wonderful than Lord Dumbledore has described." Mimi whispered, blowing her noise on her tea towel; Lily cringed, but hid it with an awkward smile, "Mimi would be _honoured_ to be Lady Rockford's...f-f-friend."

Lily smiled happily, sitting on the bed next to the small critter, "I'm glad. Now remember Mimi: my friends call me Aurora. Do you think you can manage that?"

"Y-y-yes, Miss Aurora." Mimi gulped, breaking into a misshapen, elfish smile; Lily tried to stifle her laughter, the crookedness of the elf's grin being quite comical.

"That's close enough." Lily patted the elf on the back gently, "Well, I suppose I'll eat this delicious-looking breakfast you've brought me and then get changed."

"Mimi is having your clothing laundered, Miss Aurora. You will find some new clothing in the trunk in front of your bed." the house-elf explained kindly, her squeaky voice sounding a little more confident than before, "Mimi apologizes if Miss Aurora does not like the clothing, but Master Dumbledore informs me you will be going to Hogsmeade village to choose new clothing later on this afternoon."

"Oh...perfect." Lily strained to smile, the thought of having to adorn wizarding clothing suddenly making her tense. _Dumbledore was wearing bright purple robes with stars on them when I last saw him..._

Once Mimi left, Lily crossed the large, stone room, dressed in dark cerise and gold colours, and washed up in the marble bathroom. After experimenting with some of the shampoos and soaps in the shower, Lily crossed the room and opened her trunk to find some clothing. With a pang of emotion, Lily noticed the trunk was etched with the carving of a lily. Traditionally, one's initials were found on the lid of a trunk, but it was obvious Dumbledore had found a clever way of appeasing her.

"How thoughtful," she whispered, carefully running her fingers along the pretty flower.

Lily pried open the lid and pulled on one of the simple dresses she found within the trunk—a white, knee-length frock with a collar that buttoned up the front. Looking at herself in the long, ornate mirror propped near the wall, she frowned. It was a very conservative dress.

_At least it doesn't have any purple stars..._

"_Lovely!_" the opulent mirror cooed at Lily in a thick Parisian accent, giving her a fright, "Just az' a proper lady should dress!"

Lily squeamishly looked around her room for the owner of the disembodied voice, then approached the floor-length mirror and inspected it. Puzzled, Lily checked the back of the mirror and experimentally knocked on the reflective glass.

"Would you kindly _stop_ that?" the mirror demanded haughtily, sounding frazzled.

"_Er_—sorry." Lily murmured uneasily, tentatively stepping away from the mirror.

_Why should I be surprised that the mirrors talk, too?_

Lily continued to fidget in her garment, attempting to flatten the creases. Between her clothing and newly-changed hair and eye colour, she could barely recognize herself.

Stubbornly, Lily undid three buttons at the top of her dress, cheekily revealing a little cleavage, and pulled off her white stockings, which she found constricting and oppressive in the summer heat. She let out her hair from the bun it was in and messed it up a bit, letting the loose waves fall around her shoulders.

"Oh my..." the mirror gasped, sounding scandalized with Lily's touch-up.

After picking at her breakfast, Lily descended the spiral staircase into the tower's Common Room, a spacious area littered with crimson and gold furniture. On one side of the room was a grand fireplace surrounded by squashy armchairs and coffee tables, while on the other was bookshelves and writing desks. A yellow banner was hung on one of the room's walls, which read "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and depicted a majestic lion rearing on its hind legs.

_I wonder what Gryffindor is?_

Lily stood motionless for a moment, taking in all the unique details of the cozy room. She hadn't taken notice of many of the room's features when she'd entered the night before due to her overwhelming fatigue.

"_Finally_ ready, I see."

Lily abruptly broke out of her red and yellow induced stupor when a sultry, shallow voice sounded from the furthest corner of the room. Lily turned to see the dark-haired, pale wizard she'd encountered the night before: Severus Snape.

Snape's sarcastic drawl was anything but friendly, but not quite sinister. His black eyes were keenly focused on her—an intensity that sent a chill up Lily's spine—but they betrayed only a flicker of interest before they became blank and mechanically hollow. For a moment, Lily thought she'd be unable to speak, her throat having gone suddenly dry and her pulse quickening anxiously.

"I...I was unaware that someone—_you_—had been waiting for me." Lily softly returned, willing herself to regain her confidence and composure. She couldn't stop staring at him...he was unlike anyone she had ever met.

The mysterious wizard smoothly rose from his seat at one of the writing desks and deposited a shabby pocket-book into one of the folds of his long, black robes. Within a moment he'd soundlessly crossed the room and stopped a few feet before Lily, his eyes slickly probing her appearance. Lily frowned as a blasé look crossed his emotionless face.

"You will be in the presence of two Lords in a few moments, one of which is your uncle. I don't know what witches in _Canada_ wear," Snape sneered dryly, his tone bordering insulting, "but your current attire is..._inappropriate_."

Colour suddenly appeared on Lily's cheeks as her eyes widened in outraged astonishment. A string of curse-words had effortlessly slithered to the tip of her tongue. The back of her neck had grown hot, a product of anger and embarrassment. Lily could feel the tips of her fingers begin to tingle, the magic that always reared when she was upset itching to get out.

_Don't do anything stupid...it's your first day._

Lily swallowed hard, matching the stare of the wizard before her, and forced out a fake, slightly incensed smile, "Were you sent here to take me to the Transfiguration classroom?"

Snape raised an eyebrow in subdued interest.

"Yes. Seems your uncle thinks you incapable of travelling down a flight of stairs on your own." Snape uttered silkily, making Lily silently grit her teeth, "Wouldn't want to leave you vulnerable to _horrors_ of the castle now, would we?"

Lily scowled, despite trying to remain collected in the presence of the dark-haired man. _Is he trying to goad me into a fight? _"If you were sent to escort me, I suggest you start _walking_." Lily proposed severely, a threatening glint reflecting in her blue eyes.

"..._very well_."

Snape tersely turned toward a large portrait of an overweight woman dressed in a laced corset dress, commanding her to open. The female portrait, who seemed to be practicing her off-key opera voice, slid off the wall in annoyance when Snape addressed her, leaving a hole in the wall big enough for a person to fit through. Snape disappeared through the opening. Lily wordlessly followed him, still silently seething.

Lily made sure to stay a few metres behind the insufferable wizard as she followed in his wake, not eager to receive anymore sarcastic insults. Though he had seemed unpleasant when she had met him yesterday, it appeared Severus Snape had no inhibition being especially _snarky_ without Dumbledore chaperoning her.

Snape's black cloak billowed behind him as he turned down a series of hallways and floated down a staircase which—to Lily's vexation—moved on occasion.

"A _moving_ staircase?" Lily demanded irritably, grabbing onto the stone railing as the staircase she and Snape occupied suddenly jerked to the left and magically attached to a different landing with a **thud**.

Snape scoffed lightly, stepping off the staircase without a backward glance to the perturbed girl.

Lily muttered a curse word under her breath and continued to follow the bat-like wizard, who—in Lily's opinion—was purposely trying to lose her, as he was gliding forward with unparalleled speed and sharply turning down different corridors.

"_Excuse me_!" Lily finally burst out angrily, sweat beading on her forehead and a cramp stinging her torso, "_Would you slow do_—?"

The words caught in Lily's throat as she passed an open classroom and stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw falling open in a mixture of shock and horror. There, singing in booming, masculine voices, was an assortment of oddly dressed _ghosts_...some without heads.

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts!  
Teach us something, please!  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees!  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff!  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff!  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot!  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot!_

"Ah, look here, gents!" the ghost who was conducting the choir announced, turning from his book of verses to look at the stunned girl frozen in the doorway, "We have a young lady listening in on our practice! How do you like the tune, my dear?"

The rest of the ghosts turned to look at Lily, who looked close to fainting.

"I-I-It was...w-w-wonderful!" Lily managed to stammer, unable to comprehend that she was having a conversation with a _ghost_—nevermind listening into a supernatural _choir_ practice, "A-A-Are you practicing for a big event?"

"Yes, actually! There is an annual gala at Hogwarts every summer." the ghost announced brightly, floating closer to Lily, whose breathing quickened, "What's your name, my dear? I don't believe I've seen you around the castle...?"

Lily noticed the ghost was dressed in what only could be described as a medieval costume, his attire consisting of a patterned tunic and tights. Around the ghost's neck was a ruff, and atop his curly white hair was a plumed hat.

"I-I've just arrived." Lily tried to explain, willing a polite smile on her face to mask her panic, "My name is L—_Aurora._"

_That's the second time today I've almost slipped up..._

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, Aurora." the ghost smiled beneath his wispy moustache, "I'm Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, resident ghost of the House of Gryffindor. Will you be staying at Hogwarts for awhile, my dear?"

Before Lily could respond, a cold hand grasped her arm and diverted her attention back toward the entrance. She gasped, thinking one of the ghosts had come up behind her, but instead came face-to-face with an angry Severus Snape.

"_There_ you are." Snape hissed, his voice simmering with infuriation as Lily's surprised eyes met his dark ones, "Your little detour has made us _late_."

"Ah, Professor Snape!" Sir Nicholas jovially greeted him. Snape ignored him.

"Well _maybe_," Lily started furiously, momentarily forgetting she was in a room full of ghosts as she indignantly ripped her arm out of Snape's grasp, "if you hadn't _purposely_ sped ahead to try and fluster me, I wouldn't have had to _stop_ to ask for directions."

"You're_ absurd_." Snape scoffed disdainfully, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Lily in what she perceived to be a growing dislike.

"The only thing absurd here, _Professor Snape_," Lily began, venom piercing her tone as she spoke—perhaps even _mocked_—his name for the first time, "is your _manners_."

"_Hear, hear_!" a ghost from the choir chimed in.

Snape's jaw clenched tightly as he side-glanced the ghost. He stared at Lily for a moment, an indescribable emotion conflicting in his dark orbs. As Lily defiantly returned his gaze, she wasn't sure if she was afraid of Severus Snape, or simply intrigued by him. Either way, her stubbornness wasn't allowing her to sensibly submit and ignore the wizard's taunts.

"_Follow_ me." Snape demanded harshly before he auspiciously swept past Lily and out of the room.

Lily's face relaxed a little as she turned back to the apparition she'd been conversing with; suddenly, Sir Nicholas and his band of singing ghosts didn't seem as frightening as before, "I suppose that's my cue to leave. It was lovely to meet you, Sir Nicholas...I'm sure I'll be seeing you all around." Lily elegantly smiled, the ghosts in the room peering at her curiously as she slipped out of the room and into the corridor.

Snape wordlessly proceeded down the corridor once Lily exited the classroom, his fists clamped at his sides. Though she could only see the back of his head, Lily could tell the wizard was irritated, his walk less fluid and self-assured than before. She imagined Snape was battling to hold back from hurling more insults her way.

It wasn't long before Snape unexpectedly stopped outside an obscure wooden door on the first floor of the castle. There were no special markings or signs that conveyed it was a Transfiguration classroom; Lily surely would have never found it by herself.

"Lord Dumbledore and Lord Ollivander are waiting for you in there." Snape announced shortly, turning to give Lily one more bored glower before he smoothly marched off in the opposite direction.

Lily watched him rudely walk off, fascinated. _And to think, he'll be my tutor..._

"Aurora! There you are, my dear!"

The door suddenly swung open, revealing the merry face of Lord Dumbledore. He was dressed in a suave set of magenta robes trimmed with silk, and his long white beard was tied neatly with a little red string. His cerulean eyes sparkled behind his half-moon spectacles; Lily couldn't help but feel warmer in his presence.

"Sorry I'm late. I got distracted by a ghost choir on the second floor." Lily explained innocently as Dumbledore ushered her into the classroom, "They were practicing for the—_wow_."

Lily stopped mid-sentence, her eyes growing wide as she noticed the classroom was literally _stuffed_ with thousands of thin, elongated boxes. The boxes were expertly stacked all the way up to the high ceiling and filled every cranny of the musty room. Lily was so intrigued by the little packages, she hadn't noticed another man in the room.

"Aurora, I would like you to meet Lord Ollivander." Dumbledore said, directly her attention to an aged wizard with feathery white hair and hoary eyes, "Lord Ollivander is a renowned wandmaker. His family has been in the wandmaking business since 382 B.C."

Lord Ollivander stepped forward importantly, his silver eyes glinting in intrigue as he gently took Lily's hand and kissed the top of it; Lily smiled uneasily, finding the wizard's eyes to be slightly creepy.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Rockford." Lord Ollivander spoke in a husky, wizened voice, folding his knobby hands behind his back and fixing his strange gaze on the girl, "It's not often I come upon a witch or wizard over the age of eleven without a wand. I do love a challenge."

Lily bit the bottom of her lip anxiously; the stress of trying to act both like a noblewoman and knowledgeable member of magical society was difficult: "I confess, Lord Ollivander: I don't know much about wands. I have never had one in my possession, and my mother rarely—if _ever_—used her own."

_Hopefully that matches up with whatever story Dumbledore has told Ollivander..._

"Do not fret, my dear." Lord Ollivander began in a comforting voice, turning away from Lily and plucking a box out of one of the overwhelming stacks in the room, "I guarantee there is a wand here that will suit you perfectly. Shall we begin?"

Lily gulped as Ollivander opened the first box and extracted an elegantly crafted 9 ½ inch wand. He offered the wand to Lily, and she carefully took it in her right hand, looking uncertain. Dumbledore watched on with quiet interest.

"A nine-and-a-half inch vinewood wand with a dragon heartstring core. Reasonably springy."

_Dragon heartstring? _Lily's eyes widened as she examined the wand inquisitively. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with it.

"Well, give it a wave!" Ollivander instructed somewhat impatiently, his silver eyes shining excitably.

Lily awkwardly brandished the wand, which resulted in one of the tables in the room to begin to shudder violently. She gasped when the table began to splinter and fold in on itself.

"Oh, no no no! That won't do." Ollivander immediately plucked the wand from Lily's hand, causing the table to stop morphing and rupturing; Dumbledore chuckled in the background, "We'll need something with a bit more stability...something that will compliment that untamed magic you have pent up."

Ollivander disappeared behind a stack of wands and returned with two more boxes, Lily nervously wondering what disaster she would cause next, "Let's try this one next. Ten-and-a-half inches, maple, with a phoenix feather core; a little thicker and rigid than the last."

Lily took the wand, an uncomfortable coolness settling in her right hand. Without thinking, Lily closed her eyes and flailed her wand. She—along with Ollivander—yelped when the chain of the metal chandelier above their heads snapped and sent it crashing to the floor before them. Luckily, neither of them had been beneath it. Dumbledore chortled again, beaming.

"I'm so sorry!" Lily sputtered in embarrassment, immediately depositing the wand back into its box and sheepishly turning to Ollivander, "Maybe I'm just not _meant_ to have a wand..."

"_Every_ wizard and witch is meant to have a wand." Ollivander insisted, his eyes afire with a passionate vigour, "I am the best wandmaker in the British Isles—dare I be so arrogant to say _Europe_—and I have never encountered anyone who I could not match a wand to. I shall not give up."

Nearly twenty wands later, Lily was convinced that she would be the exception; no wand suited her, and the more she tried out, the more the room resembled a destruction zone. Dumbledore had remained silent throughout the session, while Lord Ollivander had become more and more frenzied, cursing as he disappeared into the stacks again. It was apparent he would not accept failure.

Ten minutes later he emerged, carrying a single wand box. The box was slightly tattered and dusty, looking to be more weather-beaten than some of the others he had presented. With a small, enigmatic smile, Ollivander removed the wand from the box and presented it to Lily. Lily sighed and took the wand, ready for another disappointment, but perked up when a warm feeling spread throughout her entire arm.

The design of the wand was quite stunning, having almost an antique charm. The slender wand had an intricate carving on it which made it unique: a vine twisted and snaked from the handle to the tip, tiny leaves and flowers springing from it. The flowers were interlaid with what appeared to be pink pearls.

"I designed this wand almost fifty years ago, when I was still an apprentice to my father. I spent a good deal of time on the aesthetic, as you can see. My father was the one who crafted the core from the hair of a female unicorn. My mother collected the hair from a particularly genteel unicorn while she was travelling in forests of Andorra." Ollivander explained, his crinkled face poised in subdued anticipation. He seemed rather fond of the wand and its story.

"It's very beautiful." Lily whispered; she looked to be almost in a trance as she absentmindedly twirled the wand around in her fingers. _Made of a unicorn's hair...unicorns are real?_

"Willow, ten-and-a-quarter inches, swishy; a wand most advantageous for Charm work." Ollivander reiterated perfectly, his tone growing lower and his eyes burning with intensity, "Give it a try, Aurora. Think about how it feels."

The warm feeling had already coursed through the rest of her body and the tips of her fingers tingled fervently. Lily choked back her apprehensiveness and fluidly flourished the elegant wand by assertively flicking it forward. It was as if the wand had infused her with confidence.

Magically, a small flock of doves suddenly sprung from the tip of the wand and fluttered out one of the open windows in the Transfiguration classroom. Lily gasped in a mixture of disbelief and wonderment.

"_Bravo_!" Dumbledore encouraged cheerfully, softly clapping as Lily turned to him in enthused shock.

"I...I can't believe I just did that!" Lily squeaked, looking at Ollivander with disbelief written across her pretty face; she couldn't help but feel a bit proud, "This wand feels _wonderful_!"

"How extraordinary..." Ollivander whispered mysteriously, ignoring Lily as his gaze set on the window the doves flew out of. He eventually turned toward Lily, looking absolutely captivated: "That was an exceptional exhibition of magical adherence. I do not see such powerful displays often."

It was evident that Lord Ollivander was extremely devoted to his craft. He paused for a moment, his zealous eyes fixated on the carved wand in Lily's hand. He seemed absolutely _besotted_ with it.

Lily looked down at the handsome wand in her hand and smiled. She had immediately felt an inexplicable connection to it—as if she were always meant to have it and its magic had lay dormant, awaiting her before it revealed its potential. Having it in her custody now was strangely comforting.

"You will find this wand to be extremely loyal. A few have tried it out, and it has never taken to anyone—rather, it has stubbornly backfired when anyone has attempted to use it, including myself. I often wondered if it was defective." Ollivander smiled secretively, exchanging a look with Dumbledore, "Turns out it just took someone special to tap into its magic. I think we can expect great things from you, Lady Rockford."

Lily blushed; when she looked at Dumbledore, he winked.

"Thank you for taking the trouble to help me find a wand, Lord Ollivander. I'm very pleased with it." Lily said happily, forgetting to keep up her cool, regal façade; she couldn't help but smile when she looked down at her wand again. _It's like I'm a real witch now..._

"It was an absolute pleasure." Lord Ollivander said suavely, kissing the top of Lily's hand again. Lily decided she liked Ollivander, despite his creepy eyes and formal nonsense.

"Aurora, will you wait for me outside the classroom?" Dumbledore requested kindly.

Lily exited the room and waited outside the door, twiddling her wand in her hand happily. Though she had left, she could still hear snippets of Dumbledore's conversation with Ollivander. As she listened she frowned, the mood in the room having changed with her absence. Ollivander's excitement had dissipated.

"I really do appreciate you paying a visit to Hogwarts to arrange a wand for Aurora." Dumbledore said kindly, "Bringing your entire inventory with you must have been a bothersome task. I want to compensate you for the trouble. I'll add a few galleons to the price of the wand."

"I'll be bringing my inventory with me wherever I go now, Dumbledore; it's no trouble." Ollivander explained casually, turning away from him and beginning to shrink the wand boxes in the room, "There was quite a bit of damage done to the shop yesterday. Diagon Alley has been shut down for the time being. Many of the shop owners have cleared out stock and moved elsewhere, fearing another attack. Eeylops' Emporium is in ruins. I feel terribly for him; more than half of the owls were killed. I consider myself lucky that only my building suffered damage."

_Attack? What attack?_

"Yes, I heard of the damage. It is all extremely unfortunate. It's a miracle none of the shoppers and shopkeepers were injured. Perhaps you can rent space up in Hogsmeade for the time being?"

"It's a possibility. I've heard the Magical Menagerie has already set up shop there. Fortescue is also thinking of moving up here; don't think he can take the economically afford closing up shop for _Merlin_ knows how long." An ugly scowl spread over Ollivander's face, "It boils my blood that we have to put up with this _muggle_ war. There has already been such devastation to London; I don't know if the city can survive another air raid."

_Oh my god...there have been bombings in London. _

"Churchill is trying to recruit more men into the Royal Air Force...they suffered heavy casualties yesterday. If I were Churchill, I'd be pleading with the Minister for skilled fliers. I imagine many of our Quidditch players would have an aptitude for dogfights."

Lily closed her eyes and stopped listening to Ollivander's rant. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach, quickly making her feel ill. Images of what state London could be in suddenly swirled in her head. _I could have been there_. Then, like a knife, another image stabbed her, making her blink back tears. She began to panic.

Lily quickly walked down the hallway, wand still clutched in her hand, and covertly ducked into another room, closing the door behind her. It turned out to be a girl's toilets.

She collapsed against one of the tiled walls, sliding into a sitting position with her knees curled up to her chest. Stunned tears began to meander down her cheek, and she suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe.

Today Lily had encountered Severus Snape, ghosts, and the possibility that she would be the only wandless witch in the history of...well, _magic_...yet this had been the most terrified she'd been all day.

The brown-haired girl put a hand over her heart, though it did not stop it from beating furiously. Lily knew she had to pull herself together if she wanted to avoid painful questions from Dumbledore, which would only makes things worse, and that she couldn't blow her cover in front of Ollivander—but, at that moment, she couldn't hold it together.

_Please James...don't be dead._

_

* * *

_

Author's Notes

Lily's introduction to the magical world, overshadowed by what she left behind in her old life. Poor Lily...poor James!

So, I love writing Snape. Snape will be a regular character from now on. It will be loads of fun developing his relationship with Lily. We'll see Lord Frank Longbottom return in coming chapter as well. ANGSTY!

So, if you happen to like this story, I implore you to review. I kid you not, reviews motivate me to write. I aim to please, you see!

Love,  
pratty-prongs-princesse


	17. Chapter 17

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Dedicated to all those who have lost their lives because of war, and those who have lived and suffered such a loss. May they all rest peacefully.  
-pratty prongs princesse

* * *

Chapter 17: I Will Come Back

_"The first thing I knew was...dust started to fall on me. The floor gave way...and I immediately realised what was happening. The roof came down...I covered my head with my hands...and wondered—frankly—whether this was the end."_

_-Battle of Britain bomb survivor_

* * *

With a sharp **crack**, James Potter suddenly appeared in a trash-strewn alley just down the street from his London manor. The bricked passage was inconspicuous and smelled strongly of rotten garbage, the reason he often apparated there; muggles didn't find it particularly inviting. He vigilantly looked up and down the alley, ensuring he'd not been seen or followed.

It was uncomfortably hot; he pulled at the collar of his weather-beaten air force uniform, the heavy cotton irksome in the summer warmth, then tucked Sirius' wand into his jacket pocket. Wasting no more time, he hurried out of the shadowed alcove and into the unhappy afternoon sun.

London was not itself.

There were clusters of people on the streets closely huddled together, whispering frightfully or bent over obscured shapes on the ground. A few shopkeepers were boarding up windows, though most of the surrounding buildings were in ruin, reduced to piles of rubble and glass. The roads—some of which had gaping holes down the middle—were empty of cars, though the odd fire-truck sped by, sirens flashing bright crimson.

_No..._

A sickening feeling crept into James' stomach; his heart erratically beat against his chest. He tried not to register the surroundings, fearing distraction, but it was nearly impossible to ignore the horrific destruction that rushed by him as he began to run.

_Just keep going...Stay focused..._

It looked like a tornado had ripped through the city. Banks, shops and offices had sections blown out of them, while some buildings had simply been flattened. Thick trees had been uprooted where they had been planted. Lamp posts had been twisted into pretzel-like shapes. Cars were upturned in the streets, some appearing to have been swallowed up by the unnatural, mouth-like fissures in the pavement.

Nearby, a woman sat among the remains of a fallen building, a little boy limp in her protective arms. She was sobbing into his messy blonde hair, pleading with him to wake up, as if he had the choice...

James choked back the grief that threatened to paralyze him, fiercely pushing forward. His legs and lungs burned in protest, but he did not heed the physical pain; the despair around him was enough to fuel his adrenaline and heighten his sense of urgency. A couple of times he had to double back and take an alternate street, the damage to the roads and buildings so severe that he could not get through the rubble. He soon became frantic.

_Got to get to her...Got to hurry..._

When James saw the final intersection he picked up speed, his fearful heart lodged in his throat. He knew once he turned the corner the school would be in sight and Lily would be within reach...

"FUCKING _CHRIST_!" he shouted out in wild infuriation, veins pulsing menacingly in his neck as he came to a sudden halt. His frenzied eyes scanned the large hillock of rubble that blocked his way down the street, looking for a way around it. He tried to think of a plausible approach to overcoming the debris, but could think of nothing in his harried state. It would be nearly impossible to climb—nevermind _dangerous_—but he knew no other way down the road.

_I'm so close..._

James was tempted to apparate beyond the wreckage, but knew there was a good chance he'd end up under it. He hadn't any idea of how far the ruins extended, or what damage lay on the other side.

_I can use magic...but the Order has probably placed a trace on Sirius' wand..._

He'd have little time to find Lily and escape if he performed magic, especially if muggles witnessed the spectacle; both the Order and Ministry would be on his tail then. He could not only be thrown out of the Order for, yet again, disobeying direct instruction, but also have his wand snapped for compromising the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.

James weighed the consequences. It didn't take long for him to decide.

"REDUCTO!" James bellowed powerfully, a path immediately blown through the wreckage before him.

As he forcefully ploughed through the shards of brick and metal his anger dissipated, replaced with dread. He broke into a ferocious run again, his heart painfully hammering in his chest as he looked about the street...

Most of the buildings down the boulevard where St. Madeline's was sited were completely demolished—reduced to masses of dispirited rock and iron. Electricity polls along the street had fallen to the ground, live wires fitfully shooting sparks in all directions. One of the trees bordering the street had caught fire; it smouldered tranquilly, dying a lonely death…

James stopped before the school grounds. A sign reading "St. Madeline's Boarding School for Young Girls" was hanging at an odd angle at the top of a disfigured gate, having become unhinged. It gently swayed back and forth, making an awful creaking sound.

_"JAMES!" she shouted suddenly, hanging out of the attic window._

_He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face the woman who had provided him with the ultimate birthday bequest, looking sullen. _He hadn't wanted the dream to end...

_"Yes?" he inquired, hope resonating in his deep voice._

_"My name...is Lily."_

The boarding school was a nameless ruin now, crushed by a German bomber. The surrounding trees were dead, the grass a black, lifeless colour. The spirit of the school had been vanquished, along with the hopes and dreams of its murdered pupils.

_"You mean us." he said, his face becoming serious._

_"What do you mean, 'us'?" she flushed._

_"You must know I have feelings for you?" he demanded sceptically, suddenly feeling insecure, "I don't recall formally asking if I could court you, but I still thought there was...an 'us'."_

_"I just…why would you want someone like me..."_

For a moment, time stopped. James was painfully trapped between romanticized memories and brutal realities. He wasn't sure which to take shelter in, as neither would offer him sweet reprieve.

"_Lily_...?" he whispered pleadingly, feeling numb as he sunk to the ground before the mangled gate. A distant, detached look crept into his eyes, which became blurred with hollow tears.

_She slinked her arm around his neck and pulled him into a soft kiss—a kiss which he returned with simmering passion. He gently pushed her onto the sand and positioned himself atop her, tenderly pinning her to the ground. She entangled her fingers in his hair to deepen the kiss._

_"Don't you know?" Lily whispered to him, not shying away from his gaze, "There's no place I'd rather be than here with you."_

James was curled up on the ground, his knees touching his forehead and his eyes closed. His shoulders shook uncontrollably. He wanted the memories to stop; they tortured him worse than any curse could. He couldn't handle the thought of...that she...he couldn't..._wouldn't_...believe that she was...

"Are you alright, son?" a deep, benign voice sounded above him. James slowly lifted his head, looking up into the worried face of an older man dressed in a black cassock.

In an instant, James had leapt to his feet and, without even thinking, grabbed the priest by the lapels of his shirt. The priest's eyes widened in astonishment as James roughly shook him, "_Tell me the girls in St. Madeline's were evacuated before the bombing!_ _SAY IT, OLD MAN! SAY IT!_"

The priest's face softened as he gained understanding. He looked upon the tormented man with genuine pity, troubled by the grief and anger that was gnawing away at him, "T-Those with wealthy parents were shipped out of the country a few weeks ago…only a couple girls and nuns remained behind. The fire department searched the wreckage this morning...I'm so sorry, but there were_ no survivors_."

The priest's answer rang in his ears, the phrase '_no survivors'_ playing over and over again like a broken record. James released him, his face scrunched up in fervent denial. The priest thought he looked crazed..._heartbroken_...on the verge of violence like a helpless animal backed into a corner. Out of self preservation, the cleric stumbled away.

_"I don't want you to go." She was crying when he pulled her close to his chest, resting his chin on her head as he looked out into the misty distance. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to turn around and walk away from her..._

_"I'm going to come back for you." he whispered into her ear, his voice barely audible over the soft rain, "I promise you."_

James moaned, scrunching up his eyes and roughly running his hand through his hair. He _had_ mustered the strength to leave Lily that day, upset and alone in the orchard where he and Sirius had played as children. He'd told her that he was fighting to keep her safe...promised her he'd be back...that they would be together again. He was a fool.

_"I don't need to meet the girl, James. The way you speak about her, the way you flushed that disgusting shade of pink when I suggested courtship, the amount of concern you're showing for her condition—that's enough to convince me she's special."_

He collapsed to his knees, powerless. Tears rolled down his anguished face. He looked up into the hazy sky, searching for any earthly sign of the woman he'd left behind...an angelic message that would soften his agony.

_She's dead...and it's my fault._

It was painfully clear to him now. He'd run away from the best thing that had ever happened to him...fled into the familiar arms of sadness and loneliness, which had embraced him since birth. It was his cowardice—his inability to embrace _happiness_—that had led to Lily's premature death.

_I abandoned her...left her in danger when I should have taken her away with me, somewhere safe...somewhere we could have been happy..._

James screamed out in mangled fury, grief and guilt possessing his mind and poisoning his heart. He wished he could've died in her place...that his body was the one that lay broken beneath the wreckage of the school.

_I'm sorry, Lily...I'm so sorry..._

His agonizing sobs mingled with the blaring sirens of fire trucks, strangled cries of those trapped or injured, and weeping of those who had also lost loved ones...

There was nothing but sorrow in London that day.

* * *

Author's Notes

Please continue to read & review!

pratty-prongs-princesse


	18. Chapter 18

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 18: The Swan and the Snake

_One of us is now retreating, you knocked me down  
So hard I'm seeing a thousand stars  
Come out wherever you are_

_-A Fine Frenzy_

_

* * *

_

Sirius Black knew something had gone wrong.

He opened his ochre eyes to find himself in a dark, lavishly-decorated chamber, heavy footfalls and gruff voices sounding in the outside corridor. He didn't recognize the regal room, dressed in rich purple and silver, but he _did_ recognize the disembodied voices that sounded in the adjacent hallway: those of Sturgis Podmore, Dorcas Meadows, and Caradoc Dearborn.

"—as if the Order doesn't have enough trouble with You-Know-Who, now we've got to worry about our own _members_ breaking the law. Can you imagine Potter and Black off gallivanting in a _muggle war_, performing magic in the midst of battle? I've never heard of two more _dim-witted, immature_—"

"They must've had their reasons, Sturgis..."

"_Ha!_ Likely just keen on making another front-page appearance on _Witch Weekly_. I wouldn't put it past those two; both of 'em are arrogant, _fame-loving_ berks. Must come with the title of '_Lord_'."

"_Give it a rest_, Podmore."

"What do you have against Potter and Black, anyway? Everyone thinks you don't like them because you're jealous of their titles."

"Jealous of _those_ two? _Don't be ridiculous_! What is there to envy?"

"Money, power, good-looks...women practically _fall_ at their feet—"

"_Alright_, I get the point, Dearborn; but I doubt their fancy titles will get them out of the mess they've landed themselves in this time."

Sirius anxiously leaned forward in his satin bed, awkwardly straining to hear Dorcas as her tone suddenly became hushed: "I've never seen James Potter like this before...it's as if he's been traumatized..."

"Yes, it's strange, indeed. I overheard Moody shouting questions at him in the Dining Hall before he used a silencing charm to muffle the noise. Arthur told me he and Shacklebolt found Potter in London, kneeling amongst the aftermath of the bombings..."

"What on _earth_ would he be doing there? Are you saying Potter apparated right out of the hospital in Leeds?"

"Yes, with Black's wand. Arthur said when they found Potter in London they'd thought he'd been given the dementor's kiss. He was still and quiet, almost like he'd been emptied—his soul _sucked_ right out of 'em. Didn't even speak when he and Shacklebolt apparated him back here."

"Why _did_ they bring Potter and Black here? I was surprised when we were told to apparate into Hogsmeade..."

"Moody probably hoped Dumbledore could get through to Potter."

"You...you don't think he's been _imperiused_, do you, Caradoc?"

"_Come off it_, Meadows! Potter has always been off his rocker, it's just taken you and Dearborn this long to see it. The man isn't imperiused...he's just reckless and _irresponsible_. I mean, we save him and Black from a watery grave and magical arrest, and he repays us by disappearing when our backs are turned? Absolutely _no_ regard for the Order or his duty—"

"Whatever is the matter with him, it must be serious. James Potter has never been the sort to show any kind of feeling, albeit anger...and he and Black have shown nothing but loyalty to the Order."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if Potter up and disappears again. That muggle war has gone to his head, if you ask me."

Sirius grit his teeth, violently drawing back the bed covers and launching himself to his feet, determined to hex Sturgis Podmore until he no longer resembled a human being. He immediately felt sick, the blood rushing from his head and causing him to weakly stagger into a bed-side table. He grunted in frustration, grasping the table to keep from falling over as pain suddenly stabbed in various places all over his bruised body.

"I suggest you lay back down, Sirius. I expect some of your bones are still in the process of re-growing. Injuries like the ones you've sustained will take a few days to heal."

Sirius' head snapped up at the sound of another person in the darkened room. By the crackling fireplace stood a shadowed figure dressed in shimmering amethyst robes; firelight reflected in his half-moon spectacles...

"Lord Dumbledore," Sirius acknowledged him quietly, clumsily sinking back onto the bed as the renowned wizard approached his side; he sighed, feeling, for the first time in years, helpless: "I take it from the conversation outside that James and I have caused quite the stir. Are the Order members outside all for me?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore said softly, magicking a chair to Sirius' bedside with the flick of his wrist and elegantly taking a seat; his blue eyes fixed intently on the Lord, interpreting his every gesture.

"I'm honoured." Sirius quirked an emotionless smile, the dread stirring in his abdomen overshadowing his usually cheeky nature, "Where have you brought me?"

Dumbledore offered an impish smile, "Care to venture a guess?"

Sirius inquisitively looked around the room again, becoming aware of the musky smell of the furniture and tapestries, and the warmth from the fireplace. He had never been in that room before, but being there brought back familiar feelings: those of security, contentment, and calm. It felt like he was being embraced by times gone by; like his happiest memories were welcoming him home.

_It's been nearly three years..._

"Hogwarts..." Sirius whispered, feeling the burden he was carrying ease slightly.

"Yes." Dumbledore replied softly, putting a comforting hand on Sirius' shoulder, "We moved you here yesterday from a hospital in Leeds. James was escorted here only a short while before you."

"Shouldn't we be in the Ministry's custody?" Sirius inquired innocently, idly toying with the hem of the bed-dressings, "Not that I'm complaining..."

"I was less-than pleased to hear of your involvement in the muggle war, especially since I forbade it earlier on." Dumbledore began pointedly, staring evenly at Sirius over the brim of his glasses, "But the Order cannot afford to lose two valuable members—even if they have acted brashly."

Sirius surmised that, if he were capable of showing any symptoms of shame or embarrassment, he may have at that moment, Dumbledore making him feel like a naughty pupil at Hogwarts again; but, he wasn't particularly embarrassed or ashamed.

He was, after all, _Lord_ _Sirius Black_.

The handsome man merely nodded, unwilling to justify his or James' involvement in the War, "I apologize for any inconvenience James or I have caused the Order. It was never our intention to cause any trouble. We contemplated telling you of our plan, but thought you would put a stop to it."

"Quite right." Dumbledore replied frankly, suppressing a sigh, "Nevertheless, your involvement in the war has remained a secret. The Order worked efficiently to locate you and James before the Ministry became aware of you."

"I...appreciate the Order's help, though I did not expect it." Sirius said curtly; he never liked to feel indebted to anyone, even the maudlin Dumbledore.

"If you were not a valued member of the Order, circumstances may have been different; however, we need you in this wizarding war, Sirius. The situation becomes graver each day, and there are not enough of us to stand up against Voldemort and his growing group of supporters. I need you and James, now more than ever."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, intrigued about the role he would play in Dumbledore's newest design, "So just like that, all is forgiven?"

"Yes; though I will require you to swear you will not return to fight in the muggle war." Dumbledore communicated seriously, his beautiful eyes hardening as he regarded the injured boy, "We _must_ stay out of this fight, Sirius. We have our own war to wage now. Can you vow to me that you will stay loyal to the Order and its cause?"

Sirius did not reply straight away, instead pausing to mull over the gravity of Dumbledore's words.

Above all, he wanted to make a difference, to be useful—perhaps even instrumental to real change. He wanted to feel the way he did when he attended Hogwarts; to live in a society—both magical and muggle—that was safe and free...open for any possibility.

He had always been devoted to fighting Voldemort and his followers, but had thought, like James, that he was more needed in the muggle war. The muggle war was _tangible_. Results could be achieved quicker and through direct action; he could simply jump into a plane and take down enemy fighters, or drive a tank and storm the beaches of Normandy. In the muggle war there was a feeling of satisfaction and instant gratification; this was absent in the magical war. The war Voldemort was waging was more shadowed; both sides acted in secret, waiting for the other to strike, and there were rarely clear victories...nobody could even be sure who was winning half of the time.

He and James had been impatient and hasty, thirsting for instant gratification...involving themselves in a war where they had a clear advantage over all other participants. They had _magic_. Sirius knew if it hadn't been for James' quick thinking with his wand, they both would have met a watery end.

_Any other man in my situation would have died..._

Sirius groaned, running his fingers through his hair. Despite his injuries, both physical and emotional, there would be no rest, for Dumbledore was—as per usual—unequivocally right. He and James belonged in the magical war which, in many ways, would be even harder to fight.

"I am loyal to the Order." Sirius finally managed sincerely, his dishevelled face looking suddenly hot-blooded, "I will not leave again, Lord Dumbledore. I know where my place is now."

"Good." Dumbledore whispered benevolently, seeming to expect the handsome Lord's answer; he rose to his feet, collecting his hands together regally, "Now, if you would kindly come with me."

Dumbledore swiftly transfigured the ornate bed Sirius was lying upon into a rickety wheelchair—startling the young Lord—and charmed it to feebly follow in his wake. The bookshelf beside the fireplace, which Sirius hadn't taken notice of before, suddenly opened like a door, revealing a stone passage behind it.

"Where are we going?" Sirius asked, shifting ineptly in the wheelchair as it followed Dumbledore into the passage; he wanted nothing else than to climb to his feet and walk by himself, feeling patronized, "You aren't sending me off to the dungeons to serve detention, are you?"

"Clever, but no. You and I are going to find Lord Potter and determine whether he too can wholly commit to the Order." Dumbledore replied softly, though Sirius detected a hint of regret in his elderly voice, "I will need you to speak with him first and get to the bottom of what is troubling him. As I'm sure you overheard, he is in a wretched state. He has thus far refused to speak with any Order members or reveal what prompted him to leave the hospital without explanation."

"Is that so..." Sirius trailed off, trying to mask the worry that conveyed in his voice. If what he imagined had transpired, he very much doubted James would be in the state-of-mind to talk Order politics with Dumbledore...

The older wizard sensed Sirius' hesitance immediately, "You know what is upsetting him, don't you?"

Sirius closed his eyes, sighing forlornly, "I have an idea what it is...yes."

Dumbledore and Sirius emerged from the passage into a hallway lined with blazing torches, slumbering portraits, and polished suits of armour. Sirius looked about nostalgically; despite the misery that was about to confront him, he was glad to be home.

* * *

Frank Longbottom leaned against one of the four oversized hour-glasses in the Great Hall, an indescribable, stern look upon his clean-shaven face. His brain was working furiously, and for good reason: it had been a chaotic twenty-four hours.

In the midst of conspiring with Dumbledore and Moody on how to keep Lily Everard—the wizarding world's only hope of defeating Voldemort—safe, Kingsley Shacklebolt had shown up to Hogwarts to inform Dumbledore that James Potter and Sirius Black had been found secretly participating in the muggle war and were recuperating from injuries sustained during an air-battle. Then, mere hours later, Arthur Weasley had arrived bringing news that James Potter had slipped out of the hospital, unnoticed, with Sirius Black's wand. Though he believed the story could get no stranger, four Order members later arrived with James Potter in their custody, explaining that he had been found in London in a nearly catatonic state.

Now, various Order members were gathered at Hogwarts, some interrogating an unresponsive James Potter, some keeping eye on an unconscious Sirius Black—should he try and escape—and others devising plans to keep Hogwart's newest fugitive safe from the Dark Lord.

Frank could not fathom why James Potter had acted the way he did, nor did he have time to guess what consequences he and Sirius Black might face for defying Dumbledore's wishes; instead, a conversation that had taken place between Dumbledore and himself that very morning played over and over in his head like a broken record...

"Alright there, Frank?" Kingsley Shacklebolt inquired conversationally, slipping out of the Dining Hall and stopping beside the visibly disquieted Lord.

"Never better." Frank murmured distractedly, his unfocused eyes staring out at the Hogwarts grounds through the open front doors.

Kingsley offered him a half-hearted smile and clapped him on the back: "I know it's a lot to take in, but I think this plan Dumbledore has conceived is a good one. You really should feel honoured that he has bestowed so much trust in you; enough to have you help carry it out. It will make a real difference to the girl."

"I just hope I can be convincing." Frank sighed in surrender, stuffing his hands in his suit-jacket pockets, "I have a feeling our dear _Aurora_ won't be happy with this arrangement."

"By the sounds of it, you aren't particularly happy, either." Kingsley snorted, causing Frank to glare at him cantankerously, "Come now, do you really think it will be _that_ bad? She's a pretty little thing, and quite amusing. Besides, it's not like Dumbledore is asking you to marry the girl."

"Have _you_ had to spend time alone with her, Kingsley? The girl is insufferable, and her talent for reading people's thoughts is absolutely irksome." Frank vented in hushed frustration, wrinkling his forehead.

Kingsley perceptively grinned at the young wizard, "Afraid she may read your mind and find out the _dapper_ Lord Longbottom has feelings for her?"

Frank barked indignantly, his indigo eyes widening in scandalized disbelief, "Where did you get such a ludicrous idea from, Shacklebolt?"

As Kingsley roared with derided laughter, Alastor Moody roughly pushed the doors into the Great Hall open and loudly slammed them shut behind him, a murderous look etched onto his ragged face, "Potter still won't say a _bloody_ word about what he was doing when we found him in London. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's been confunded. Where is Dumbledore? I thought he was bringing Black to speak to him."

"Here they come now." Frank pointed out impassively, spotting Dumbledore approaching them from down the adjacent hallway, Sirius Black rolling behind him in an old-fashioned wheelchair_. _

_That's something you don't see everyday..._

"Ah, your lady-love also approaches, Frank." Kingsley teasingly whispered in Frank's ear, pushing the irritated wizard forward as he noticed Lily tentatively descending one of the castle staircases, a house-elf leading her way.

Frank crossly brushed Kingsley off and looked up, taking in the unexpected appearance of Lily Everard. The young girl was clothed in a smart, form-fitting dress and jacket ensemble, a stylish hat atop her mound of perfect curls and soft gloves covering her hands. Her scarlet hat, jacket, and heeled-shoes matched perfectly and were accented by a sequined clutch she held to her side. Frank noticed her hair had been charmed a dark brown and lengthened considerably by Dumbledore—a fact he hadn't discerned in the confusion of their arrival mere days ago.

"Better get her off to Hogsmeade before the fireworks start up here." Kingsley said, prodding Frank out of his Lily-induced stupor.

"Fine...good luck with Potter." Frank garbled absent-mindedly to Moody, shooting one last glare at a grinning Kingsley before crossing the enormous Great Hall to meet Lily Everard on the other side.

* * *

"It won't be long until Miss Aurora learns her way about the castle!" Mimi the house-elf squeaked encouragingly, proudly waddling down the staircase in her floral-patterned towel beside Lily, "Mimi can take Miss Aurora for a tour around the castle anytime she likes, so she can become better acquainted with it!"

"Thank you, Mimi. I really appreciate all the help you're providing me." Lily replied politely, suppressing a tired yawn behind one of her gloved hands; she was less-enthused than the house-elf that morning, "Where did Lord Dumbledore say I was going, again?"

"Miss Aurora is going to Hogsmeade village to pick up some clothing and materials for her studies." Mimi reiterated happily, thrilled to be spending time with her new 'friend', "Miss Aurora will need to buy some books and potion-making tools for her lessons with Professor Snape. Master Dumbledore wishes to remind Miss Aurora that her lessons begin this afternoon."

_Oh joy. One-on-one time with the wizard that has made it his mission to mock me whenever possible..._

"Yes, I recall." she replied, biting her lower lip to keep from frowning.

Lily gracefully reached the bottom of the staircase and followed Mimi to the front doors of the castle. The little creature paused there and smiled up at Lily in adulation, slightly unnerving her; she certainly wasn't accustomed to being adored.

_More like despised..._

Blinking back grotesque images of Sister Agatha and Acantha, Lily looked about the Great Hall. She still felt awe-inspired by its magnitude and medieval quality, though she had been there once before. Her unnatural blue eyes trailed along the beautiful lines of the buttresses supporting the ceiling and the peculiar images in the stained-glass windows; when her neck began to cramp, they settled on the giant doors to the Dining Hall where a small cluster of men was gathered, heads together in secretiveness...

Lily immediately recognized the three wizards as Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Frank Longbottom—her team of saviours. She contemplated crossing the gigantic atrium to greet them, but refrained when she saw Dumbledore and another wizard in a wheelchair approach them. Lily strained to register the features of the feeble man in the chair, but became distracted when she noticed Frank crossing the hall toward her.

"Who did you say is escorting me to Hogsmeade village, Mimi?" Lily questioned hesitantly, not averting her gaze from the approaching Lord; she noticed he looked oddly uneasy, his eyes shifting between the floor and her face.

"Master Dumbledore said Lord Longbottom would be accompanying Miss Aurora." Mimi responded promptly, turning on the spot when she noticed him approaching, "Lord Longbottom will be bringing Miss Aurora back to Hogwarts after lunch, in time for her lessons."

"Is that so..." Lily whispered to herself, unsure of whether she liked Dumbledore's plan or not.

"Have a splendid time in the village, Miss Aurora!" Mimi chirruped brightly, apparating with a loud **crack **just as Frank arrived; he smirked when Lily jerked skittishly, finding it amusing that she was still alarmed in the presence of magic.

"Good morning, _Lady Rockford_." Frank delivered conceitedly as he came up beside Lily, grabbing her hand to kiss the top of it; she frowned in annoyance, "You look absolutely lovely this morning. You could _almost_ pass for a lady in those clothes."

"Is that really necessary?" Lily whispered irritably, referencing Frank's aristocratic gestures as she stealthily pulled her hand out of his grasp, "Please, you don't need to _pretend_ to be a gentleman on my behalf."

"The show is not for _you_, my lady—" Frank murmured back, plastering a fake smile onto his striking face; it starkly contrasted his intense, humourless gaze, "—but for everyone else who might ever be observing us. Appearance is everything, so you might as well get used to all the well-bred formalities right from the start. Remember, you need to be convincing for your disguise to hold up."

He was right, and she knew it.

"Fine." Lily sighed, deciding it best not to start a fight with Frank so early in the morning; she would, after all, be spending the better part of the day with him, "So, _Lord Longbottom_, what is the plan for this morning?"

Frank detected the spite in her voice and swallowed his snappy reply, "Dumbledore has asked me to escort you into the village to get some materials for your lessons. Are you ready to depart?"

Before Lily could reply, the brusque, loud tone of Alastor Moody's voice sounded from across the hall, diverting her attention: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, _HE'S GONE_? I JUST SAW HIM IN THERE A MINUTE AGO!"

Lily looked over at the crowd of wizards outside the Dining Hall doors with shocked interest. She watching Kingsley and Moody storm into the Hall, their heads swinging back and forth in search of the missing individual: "I THOUGHT THERE WAS AN ANTI-APARATION CHARM ON THE SCHOOL!"

"There is." Dumbledore serenely called after the wizards, his voice only audible from across the entry because of its echo in the Dining Hall, "He must have exited another way."

"ONE OF THE WINDOWS IS BROKEN!" Kingsley hollered from the depths of the Dining Hall; Lily thought she saw him standing atop one of the long tables: "PROBABLY HEADED TOWARD THE VILLAGE, OR THE FOREST—"

Dumbledore swept into the Dining Hall where Kingsley and Moody were searching, leaving the scruffy, heavily-bandaged man in the wheelchair alone in the Great Hall. Lily scrutinized him again: He had his tired head propped-up against one of his hands, covering his eyes. She thought he looked weary—almost as if he had accepted some kind of defeat. Oddly, Lily felt compelled to approach him and assure him everything would be alright...

"Come; we have no business in this issue." Frank commanded gently, pulling Lily's attention away from the peculiar man across the hallway as he grabbed her hand and began guiding her out of the castle.

"Who are they looking for?" she probed curiously as Frank pulled her down the stone steps leading to the school grounds. The morning sun's brightness assaulted her eyes, causing her to shade them with her free hand, "And who was the man in the wheelchair?"

"He is another Order member, but he does not know of you." Frank replied shortly; Lily sensed his annoyance with her questioning, something else being on his mind, "Who Dumbledore and the others are looking for is none of your concern, however. Now, kindly get into the carriage and stop barraging me with enquiries."

Lily squinted up at the lonesome black carriage positioned on the dirt road before the castle; pebbles crunched beneath her as she and Frank approached it and took shelter under its temporary shadow. Frank gallantly opened the door and helped Lily into the Victorian coach before jumping in and taking a seat across from her.

"Are there no such thing as automobiles in the wizarding world?" Lily questioned in a patronizing tone, raising an eyebrow as she examined the interior of the carriage: The seats were fashioned in crushed velvet and the windows festooned with lacy curtains.

"No muggle inventions work within Hogwarts or on Hogwarts grounds. I suggest one of the first books you read is _Hogwarts: A History_." Frank advised, absentmindedly looking out of the carriage window as it twitched and began to move along the road; Lily wondered if he was searching for any sign of the escaped person mentioned before, "You must devote yourself whole-heartedly to your studies and carefully observe the everyday practices of the magical aristocracy. Not knowing the answers to simple questions, such as the one you just asked, will give you away immediately."

"I _understand_ that, Frank, but it's a lot to learn." Lily replied sharply, though her voice quivered with suppressed anger and vulnerability; this garnered Frank's attention and caused him to turn away from the window, "I've never been a witch, and I've never been a noblewoman. I'm going to need help adjusting. It's difficult for me to present a believable front...to pretend to be someone I'm _not_...if I haven't experienced either world."

Some of the anxiety and inexplicable irritation Frank felt toward Lily that morning melted away with her sincere expression of fear. She was a vulnerable, naive girl of seventeen that had been unwittingly thrust into a positively frightening situation she was expected to handle with relative poise—yet he was prone to treating her like a toffee-nosed, entitled society witch. He knew some of the consternation he felt when around her was derived from his own fear of the unknown: He had never experienced a woman like Lily before, and he wasn't sure how to act around her. She somehow had the effect of transforming him into a competitive, arrogant schoolboy, rather than the distinguished Lord and expertly trained Order member he was.

"I apologize, Lily. It's been a hectic morning, but that is no excuse for my rudeness." Frank declared regretfully, staring at Lily with genuine, concern-filled eyes; she was suddenly at a loss for words, taken aback by his sudden affection, "It is my chief mission to protect you, and I will do whatever that mandate requires, including helping you to learn the ways of the wizarding world. Please forgive me."

"I...I forgive you." Lily replied, finding her voice. She averted her eyes from the handsome wizard and looked out the coach window, suddenly feeling awkward in Frank's presence.

_It isn't everyday that a man pledges to protect you, no matter the cost..._

Her thoughts suddenly flickered to James, but she immediately quashed the nostalgic image of him in an army uniform, unable to deal with the repercussions of such a memory.

Lily had spent the entire previous day locked in her dormitory room mourning James, replaying memories of times she and he had spent together. It killed her to think those memories were among her happiest and that she may never experience such bliss again. She had no way of knowing whether James was dead or alive and knew that, if he survived the war, she could still never see him again now that she was in hiding. Even if Voldemort were eventually defeated and she were able to embrace her true identity, Lily didn't imagine James would be thrilled to find out she was a _witch._

_How ironic...I finally come into money and a title, and still don't fit in his world..._

The reality was that she could, and would, never be with James again. Lily wasn't mourning his death, as she could not be sure of his survival, but the death of _her_ life with him. She prayed that he would survive, unable to fathom living in a world where he did not exist, but knew she had to come to grips with her new life if _she_ hoped to survive...

_I can't stay holed up in my room…crying…forever. I need to embrace my second chance at living._

The carriage continued to loudly amble forward, beginning to climb a subtle incline. Thick, ancient forest was all there was to observe for awhile, but twenty minutes into the trip the landscape again opened up and an old-world village, situated on the top of a hill, came into view.

"Just up the mount is Hogsmeade Village." Frank mentioned nonchalantly, beginning to grow anxious with Lily's pensive silence; he wondered if he had said something to upset her, "It's one of a few wizarding villages in the UK. They are hard to come by, as hamlets always have to be in remote areas so muggles don't stumble upon them."

Lily pressed her face closer to the window, visibly intrigued, so Frank continued, "Hogwarts students are allowed to visit Hogsmeade village on select weekends. My friends and I used to come to the village to purchase sweets from Honeydukes and jokes from Zonko's..."

"They sell jokes in Hogsmeade?" Lily whispered, a ghost of a smile lighting her face as she continued to stare at the nearing parish.

"Yes, there are many different shops, all selling unique magical things. There are also a few pubs, like The Three Broomsticks." Frank said, suddenly excited at the prospect of showing Lily the village, "You will certainly be bombarded with a lot of new magical things at once. Do your best to observe and adopt as much as you can while you're here."

The coach rattled to a stop when it arrived at the edge of the village. Lily's stomach flip-flopped nervously as she became aware that simply shopping around Hogsmeade would be her biggest challenge yet: Lily would be seen outside the confines of Hogwarts and would come into contact with many witches and wizards whom she would have to convince of her elite status in magical society...

"Are you ready?" Frank inquired, noticing the tense look on Lily's pale—albeit pretty—face, "You'll do just fine. Just keep to the story and try to avoid answering any questions you may not know the answer to. As I am escorting you around the village, I will do the talking should anyone address us. Proper gentlemen always do."

Lily bit back a sharp retort regarding sexism and tore her gaze away from the window, instead fixing it upon Frank, "What do I say if anyone asks why you are escorting me?"

"Again, I will handle any questions like that." Frank said, shrugging the query off, "The best advice I can give you is to try and suppress any visible reactions you may have to anything magical, so as to not give yourself away—"

"That'll be easy enough."

"You nearly jumped a mile off the ground when that house-elf apparated this morning."

"...Point taken."

"—and make sure to act excruciating proper _always_. No slang words or phrases, no running or outbursts of emotion, and no associating with shady-looking characters that might ruin your reputation. Also, try and fake a bit of a superiority complex. Most society women are quite snobby and turn up their nose at anything they may regard as distasteful."

"You want me to pretend to be a stuck-up bitch?" Lily demanded in a high-pitched tone, appalled by the thought of acting anything like Acantha.

"Ah yes, and please, no curse words." Frank raised an eyebrow at Lily's choice of prose, trying to keep an amused smile from creeping onto his face.

"I'm not going to be rude to anyone, Frank." Lily insisted stubbornly, her shakiness temporarily subsiding and some of the fire returning to her eyes, "I can't imagine _all_ society witches think they are superior to common folk. I think you're generalizing."

"Sure, maybe there are one or two who don't, but they _stand out_. We are trying to have you blend in, if you recall." Frank frowned at the tenacious girl, though he was secretly relieved she had returned to her passionate self.

"I don't care." Lily said, folding her arms and obstinately looking away from Frank.

"_Ah ha_! You are capable of acting like a society woman! Just look at you _scorning me_ for trying to make you do something you find objectionable!" Frank announced triumphantly, a grin spreading across his face as Lily huffed in defeat and took to glaring at him.

"Can we just go, _please_?" Lily requested tetchily; she hated being proven wrong.

"_Of course_, my lady." Frank teasingly mocked, chuckling as he opened the carriage door and valiantly offered his hand to help Lily out of the vessel and onto the cobblestoned road, "Lady Rockford...welcome to Hogsmeade Village."

* * *

Lily's crystal eyes took a moment to adjust before they chronicled the strangely charming appearance of the Hogsmeade.

At the beginning of the wizarding village was a picturesque fountain—which served to welcome visitors with its quiet bubbling—while near the end of Hogsmeade was a quaint little square where a medieval clock-tower operated to remind shoppers of the time. Beautiful as the monuments were, they were not the village's distinguishing feature: Hogsmeade mostly consisted topsy-turvy, slapdash shops and pubs with pitched, poorly shingled roofs, twisting chimneys, and brightly-painted store signs. Many of the shops appeared to be built on uneven ground—some even looking close to tumbling over—but the village did not have a run-down feel to it. Instead, Hogsmeade had a warm, hospitable aura that embraced one like the smell of a home-cooked meal.

"Wow..." Lily breathed, taking Frank's arm as she stepped out of the carriage. Hogsmeade, like Hogwarts, was unlike anything she had ever seen, and was a far-cry from the bustling streets of London.

"Before I forget, take this." Frank fumbled in one of the inside pockets of his expensive suit jacket and withdrew a small, bulging draw-string bag, which he placed in Lily's hand.

"What's in here?" Lily questioned, the contents of the bag clinking and jiggling around.

"It's your money. We can't very well access your family's safe at Gringotts, as the deatheaters could get wind of it, so from now on you will be drawing money from the Dumbledore family safe." Frank explained quietly, "Dumbledore will fund all of your needs from now on."

"_What_?" Lily hissed, failing to hide her upset, "I can't let him do that!"

"_Don't make a scene_." Frank murmured to her, though the command in his voice was unmistakable, "Dumbledore has plenty of money; he couldn't spend it all in one—perhaps even _two_—lifetimes, even if he tried."

"But—"

"Don't argue. You can pay him back once this is all over. For now, you will take this money and spend it without scruple. Remember, there is no such thing as a _frugal_ peer of the realm. You must spend _lavishly_ in order to fit in." Frank insisted; Lily frowned, but obediently tucked the money into her bag, "Good. Now, let's be off to Gladrags' Wizardwear."

Lily was unsure of how she felt about Dumbledore using his own money to protect and keep her, but put the thought out of her mind as Frank pulled her further into the village.

Hogsmeade was quiet that sunny morning, only a few witches and wizards roaming the streets and darting into shops with their arms overflowing with bags and parcels. As they walked, Lily marvelled at the glittering products predominantly paraded in shop windows, consistently reminding herself not to appear too transfixed or enthralled by the magnificent and strange collections on display.

The first shop that caught Lily's eye was Dervish & Bangs, an oddly-named, cramped little store with piles of odd magical instrumentation spread over tables in the front window. A sooty old wizard methodically tinkered with a round object—which incessantly sputtered red smoke—near one of the tables, making Lily surmise the shop was for magical repairs.

The second store that came into view was exceedingly more interesting that Dervish & Bangs. Lily barely suppressed a girlish squeal when she looked into the window of Honeydukes Sweetshop, a store she recalled Frank mentioning before. Honeydukes was larger than the last shop in size and displayed an array of rainbow-coloured candies, chocolates and suckers capable of rendering any child faint. Succulent sweets seemed to fill every shelf of the store, bricks of fudge displayed under glass and jars filled to the brim with Ton-Tongue Toffee, Ice-Mice and Fizzing Whizbees—candy Lily certainly had never come across in her lifetime.

"_They sell blood-flavoured lollipops_?" Lily whispered to Frank as he pulled her past the shop, trying to hide the alarm in her voice.

In truth, she wanted nothing more than to stop and press her face against the window of the store to admire the wonderful wares inside.

"Yes, vampires tend to like those." Frank replied, a smirk creeping onto his mouth when he noticed Lily try to mask her uneasy astonishment; her face remained neutral, but her eyes bulged slightly, "We can come back here if we have time before lunch. Ah, here is the clothier."

Slightly disappointed, Lily let Frank drag her into Gladrag's Wizardwear, a modestly spacious clothing store that boasted rack upon rack of colourful, perfectly arranged garments. The shop, which smelled of roses and fresh linens, was empty when they entered, the only occupants being the creepy mannequins posed in the front window.

Frank cleared his throat authoritatively, making Lily jump in the broken silence. Looking around, she suddenly felt sickened at the thought of having to pick out clothing, especially with Frank breathing down her neck the entire time. As it was, Lily felt her sense of style was poor, and she knew it would be even harder to figure out something suitable for an _aristocratic witch_ to wear with Frank critiquing her every choice.

_Oh god. I hope he doesn't make me try things on and __**show**__ him…_

"Oh dear, please pardon me!" a plump, middle-aged witch in iridescent lilac robes singed as she appeared from behind a curtain near the back of the shop, her voice reverberating against the walls like a soft bell, "I thought the store was vacant. Customers don't usually come in until closer to eleven, you see. Can I help you with anything?"

"No apology necessary, Madam Gladrags." Frank said politely, a charming—but humble—smile lighting his face; Lily took note of how quickly he could turn on his lordly façade, "I am Lord Longbottom, and this is Lady Rockford."

The woman seemed to pale when she realized she was speaking with nobility.

"A _pleasure_ to meet you, Lord Longbottom, Lady Rockford!" Lily meekly smiled when Gladrags flashed her a panicky smile, "I _deeply_ apologize for not remembering you had made an appointment here!"

"Please, it should be I apologizing. I did not make an appointment with you, though I rather hoped you would have a slot available for this morning." Frank explained, flashing an enchanting smile that Lily guessed he used only when trying to win over a woman; she resisted the urge to roll her eyes, "You see, Lady Rockford arrived in London last night via the Floo Network, and took the train here this morning. As she is from Canada, a special connection had to be made with the Ministry so she could travel by Floo; however, in an unfortunate turn of events, all of her luggage was somehow lost in the transaction. Because of this, Lady Rockford is in need of an _entirely new_ wardrobe."

"How_ unfortunate _indeed!" Gladrags chimed dramatically, though her eyes were alit with what Lily perceived to be dollar signs.

"We really don't mean to trouble you, or hold up any of your upcoming appointments, but the Lady is absolutely desperate for forty or fifty new day outfits, some new party dresses, summer robes, shoes, and other accessories." Frank reiterated suavely, faking despondency to get what he wanted, "Can you help her?"

Frank extracted a bag of coins nearly triple the size of the one he handed Lily earlier and flippantly dropped it on the counter near the cash register, the bag falling with a pronounced **clang**.

Gladrags' jaw nearly dropped to the marble floor as her eyes—the size of saucers—fixed on the heavy bag of wizarding money, "I…I couldn't possibly turn down a Lady in such desperate need. My other appointments can be rescheduled. I would be _more_ than pleased to help pick out a new wardrobe for you, Lady Rockford!"

Lily weakly smiled back at the fake woman and nodded her head, Frank clapping his hands together in triumph beside her, "Excellent! See to it that all the gold in that bag is spent, Gladrags, and that you outfit the beautiful Aurora with the latest and most fashionable lines. Gala season is coming up, after all."

"_Of course_, Lord Longbottom!" Gladrags curtsied spectacularly, a grin spanning from ear to ear, "You leave Lady Rockford in good hands, I assure you! My lady, if you will follow me to the V.I.P. room I will fetch you a glass of champagne and we can get started!"

Gladrags curtsied again and took off behind the curtain near the back of the store, Frank's bag of coins firmly grasped betwixt her fingers and a perky bounce in her step.

"Are you not staying?" Lily questioned uncertainly as Frank opened the shop door to leave.

"I know better than to get involved in women's affairs." Frank smiled teasingly, giving Lily's shoulder an encouraging squeeze before stepping out, "I'll be back in two hours or so to collect you. Please remember everything we've talked about."

"I will. See you in two hours."

"_Au revoir_."

"Oh, and Frank?" Lily called out gently before the door shut.

"Yes?"

"I'm paying you back for all that gold you just handed over."

"You're ridiculous."

"_Au revoir_."

Lily heard Frank faintly chuckle as the door closed behind him. Taking a deep breath, she timidly crossed the store and swept the curtain disguising the next room aside to find Madam Gladrags charming a bottle of champagne to pour into a gold-rimmed flute.

"There you are, my lady! Please, come stand on this platform so I can take your measurements." Madam Gladrag chimed in a bubbly voice, handing Lily the flute and encouraging her to stand in the middle of a much more luxurious room lined with gilded mirrors and portraits of beautiful witches in designer apparel.

Lily approached the plushy platform and stepped up onto it, trying to remain self-confident as she looked at her reflection in the mirror facing her. Immediately, Gladrag began busying herself with Lily's measurements, charming a tape with her wand to glide over and across Lily's figure. Once she was finished, Gladrag excused herself and left the room to find some clothing for Lily to try on.

"I just received this shipment of clothing in last night: It's a line popular in our Paris stores right now." Gladrag exclaimed when she re-entered the room with two racks of clothing magically following her, "If you like these garments, you'll be the first society woman to showcase them in Britain! I'm sure all the ladies will be absolutely _envious_ of you."

"I'm sure I'll like them." Lily smiled uneasily, feeling insecure as she did not know how to convey her poor sense of style without giving herself away, "To be blunt, Madam Gladrags, I'm putting my trust in your expert fashion sense today, for I'm quite clueless as to what is in style right now. The—_er_—fashion in Canada is quite different, you see."

"Is that right?" Madam Gladrag inquired curiously, beginning to remove expensive robes from the clothing racks, "I thought it would be quite similar. The jacket suit you are currently wearing is simply _exquisite_. Who is the designer?"

"Oh...this old thing?" Lily squirmed uncomfortably, offering a weak laugh; she was beginning to realize she was an exceptionally bad liar, "Frank bought this outfit for me when he heard of my luggage predicament. Couldn't very well wear what I wore yesterday, could I?"

"Oh my, absolutely not!" Gladrag agreed, ushering Lily into a changing room and beginning to hand her clothing over the door, "That Lord of yours is an absolute _doll_! I'd kill to land a man willing to spend so much money on me!"

Lily half-heartedly laughed in response, unsure of how she was supposed to react to the shopkeeper. Was she meant to pretend that she and Frank were courting one another? Did Frank escorting her to Hogsmeade automatically mean, in the aristocratic world, that they were a couple?

Lily slipped on the dress that Gladrags had given her and glowered at her image in the mirror, not even paying attention to the garment. If it was Dumbledore's plan to make her and Frank look like an item, the least Frank could have done was told her so...

"Yes…Lord Longbottom is a good _friend_ to me." Lily declared nonchalantly as she walked out of the change room in a bright red evening gown; the older witch smirked, but did not inquire further.

"You look _magnificent_ in that, Lady Rockford!" Gladrag cried in delight, hurrying over to Lily to fluff up her train and fix the straps, "You know, red is a beautiful colour on you, but I think you would really stand out in a royal blue or emerald green."

_Would have matched my old eye colour..._

"I'm willing to try anything, Madam Gladrags." Lily said softly, suddenly overwhelmed by her appearance in the multiple mirrors opposite her; the dress she wore was the most beautifully made garment she had ever worn, "You really do make stunning clothing...I've never seen such luxurious materials before."

"_Thank you_, Lady Rockford! You are far too kind." the clothier emphasized sincerely, a genuine smile flitting over her proud face, "I suspect anything would look exceptional on you, though, as you are already so lovely."

Lily blushed, taken aback by the woman's compliment; she wasn't very used to receiving them, "Please, Madam Gladrags, call me Aurora."

The shopkeeper looked slightly gobsmacked at the prospect of calling an aristocrat by her first name, her face losing its colour, "You wish me to call you A-Aurora? I don't want to show you any disrespect, my Lady—"

"I'm sure we come to know eachother well, as I will be frequenting your store often." Lily explained, finding the woman's reaction to be very much like Mimi's, "Please, I insist; being constantly referred to as Lady Rockford can get tiring."

Gladrag smiled curiously at the young lady, suddenly regarding Lily as if she were a rare treasure, "You are a delight, Aurora. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Before Lily could respond, another high-pitched voice sounded from the front of the store, "_Gladrags?_ Where are you? Do you really mean to make me wait _forever_?"

Lily's eyes scrunched up in aversion, the shrill, demanding voice obviously belonging to an exceptionally discourteous person.

"Oh no, she mustn't have received my owl..." Madam Gladrags murmured nervously, fear reflecting in her eyes as she suddenly excused herself and disappeared behind the curtain.

Curious as to whom the shopkeeper was apprehensive of, Lily hopped off the platform and crept toward the curtain, peaking from behind it.

By the front counter was a slender woman with pale skin and straight, white-blonde hair. The lady—who looked to belong to old money—wore a tailored black and gray dress-suit and a feathered hat that ostentatiously matched her beaded designer bag. She impatiently clinked her pumps on the marble floors, her lips pursed in irritability as she awaited Madam Gladrags.

Lily immediately disliked the woman.

"Lady Black! What a surprise to see you here this—"

"_Surprise_? What on earth are you talking about? My servant made an appointment for 10 o'clock only days ago. Do you mean to tell me you have forgotten?" the blonde woman demanded haughtily, her piercing silver eyes glaring menacingly at the shopkeeper—whom she had no qualm about treating poorly.

"N-No, Lady Black, I did not forget, but some unexpected circumstances have occurred—" Madam Gladrags stuttered, her shoulders shuddering in the presence of the cruel noble.

"What do you mean, _unexpected circumstances_?"

"D-D-Did you not receive my owl, Lady Bl—?"

"_Obviously not, or I wouldn't be here_!"

"I'm s-s-s-so sorry, Lady Black! There was an emergency—"

"_Do you think I care_? I need a dress for a party tonight, Gladrags, and if I don't get one _this instant_, I can _assure_ you Lord Malfoy will hear of it."

Mustering the most self-important tone of voice she possibly could, Lily stepped out from behind the VIP room curtain to come to the shopkeeper's rescue: "Gladrags? What's going on here? Why is this woman holding up my appointment? I'm on a tight schedule, as you know."

Before a bemused Gladrags could answer, the snotty witch—who looked around Lily's age—quickly snapped at her, "It seems Gladrags has _wasted_ both of our times by scheduling us for the same appointment."

Lily turned to look at the woman in vain disinterest, Gladrags nervously looking between the two society witches: "That seems very unlikely."

"_I beg your pardon?_ My servantmade an appointment for _this time_." the witch insisted furiously, hotly glaring at Lily, who dared to question her.

"_Clearly_ your servant has made a mistake." Lily bit back smoothly, her expression glacial as she sighed dramatically and offered Lady Black a fake smile, "Perhaps you should find yourself _better_ help."

Lady Black malevolently narrowed her eyes as she spoke, her lips curving into a half-scowl as she pompously took in Lily's regal appearance, "And _who_ are you, exactly?"

Lily bit back a nasty retort, instead applying an equally conceited smirk to her face, "I am Lady Aurora Rockford, niece of Lord Dumbledore...and _you_ are?

Lady Black's face was a mixture of subdued shock and curiosity, "I didn't know Dumbledore had a niece."

"His sister, Arianna...I am her daughter." Lily replied curtly.

"Is that so...I am Lady Narcissa Black, of _the_ Noble House of Black. Why have I not seen or heard of you before, Aurora?" Narcissa inquired lightly, her hoary eyes fixed on the new aristocrat, "I've been to nearly every important party since my début."

Lily struggled not to roll her eyes.

"I only just moved to England from Canada." Lily explained cautiously, wishing the big-headed debutant would stop asking her questions.

"From Canada? Why do you have a British accent, then?" Narcissa challenged suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

_Nosy Bitch_.

"You really must brush up on your geography, Narcissa! Canada is a British colony." Lily chuckled lightly, trying to be as condescending as possible; Narcissa frowned in defeat, "Now, do you mind if Madam Gladrags and I finish?"

"Please, I _insist_." Narcissa replied in a syrupy tone, mocking sweetness.

Lily flashed a fake smile and grasped Madam Gladrags arm, pulling her back into the V.I.P. room and closing the curtain behind her. Narcissa remained at the front of the store, arms crossed and her eyes venomously glaring at the floor.

"_Oh_, Aurora dear! Thank you for stepping in, but I have to go out there and try to convince Lady Black to come later in the day..." Madam Gladrags explained sadly, clearly still fearful of confronting the woman outside.

"No need, Madam Gladrags. I trust in your sense of style; just pick out anything you think will look good on me and I'll take it. I'll need more dresses, casual wear, and the like. Do you mind? This way you can take Lady Black now. Perhaps I can pick up the clothing before I leave the village after lunch?"

Gladrags blinked, looking stunned and relieved, "Are you _sure_, Aurora? You might not like what I pick out, and I don't want to cut your appointment short—"

"If I'm honest with you, I'm really not good at picking out things for myself." Lily said, reddening, "I've never been much of a shopper."

Gladrag found Lily's confession humorous, suddenly bursting into amiable laughter, "Please do not take offence to this, my Lady, but you are the oddest noblewoman I've ever met! You aren't at all unpleasant, and you aren't obsessed with your looks; that is very odd, indeed!"

Lily laughed too, taking Gladrags' remark as a compliment, but worried she was already doing a terrible job of disguising herself as a magical aristocrat.

"I will pick out my finest clothing for you, Lady Aurora; I promise you won't be disappointed with the outfits I come up with! Where shall I have the garments sent?"

Lily blinked, unaware such practices took place: "Um...well, I suppose to Hogwarts. I'm staying with my uncle Dumbledore for the summer...he's the headmaster there."

"I'm well aware of who your uncle is, dear Aurora!" Gladrag chuckled, magicking clothing back onto racks to clear the room for Narcissa's appointment, "There isn't a witch or wizard in England who doesn't know of Lord Dumbledore, I reckon."

Lily smiled in agreement, though she made a mental note to figure out why that was the case.

"I suppose I'll be on my way, then. Thank you for your help today, Madam Gladrags."

"Please, call me Gabrielle!" the older woman beamed warmly, "You will come back soon, won't you?"

"I will. Though it may be impossible—" Lily frowned, inclining her head to the front of the store where Narcissa impatiently waited, "—I hope the rest of your morning is enjoyable."

Gladrag chuckled again as Lily swept back the store curtain and headed for the exit. She knew she was commencing her time in the clothing store far earlier than she was supposed to, but she didn't want to cause Gabrielle any trouble—and Narcissa Black had trouble written all over her.

When Lily entered, Narcissa looked up at her in subdued disdain, her posture communicating an air of indifference. Lily nodded curtly as she passed by the woman, almost making it to the door before Narcissa opened her mouth again, "Will you be attending the Hogwart's Gala in August, Lady Rockford?"

She bit her lip, unsure of how to answer a question she didn't actually know the answer to, "I suppose that depends on how long I stay in England, Lady Black. Good day."

Without waiting for a response, Lily bolted from the shop as quickly as she could, knowing she would be relentlessly questioned and her resolve tested if she remained. Frank had explicitly told her to wait at the clothier for him, but she couldn't bear to be in the blonde-haired witch's presence any longer.

When Lily exited the shop, she noticed the streets had become much busier. Witches and wizards darted by her quickly, some wearing oddly-coloured robes or mottled hats, and others carrying oddly shaped packages or animals: One wizard in particular casually walked down the street with a pet porcupine on the end of a leash and a broom balanced over his shoulder.

After enjoying a spell of giggles, Lily curiously looked up and down the street, wondering what to do. As she was uselessly standing in the midst of a crowd, Lily thought it practical to explore other stores and return when her two hours were up, rather than waiting around and chancing another encounter with Narcissa.

_I definitely wouldn't mind taking a second look in Honeydukes..._

As Lily headed back toward the beginning of the village where the sweets store was located, she secretly hoped she would not run into Frank and be scolded for deviating from the plan.

When she entered Honeydukes it was bustling with activity, filled to the brim with older wizards and witches and their young children, who were jumping up and down in sugar-induced glee. Lily couldn't suppress a smile as she perused through the shelves and buckets filled with candies and chocolates, her eyes excitably registering the strange names of the sweets. She thought Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans were especially interesting, for the jelly beans purported to be a "risk with every mouthful."

"Can I help you with anything, m'dear?" an older, balding man with a bright smile and large belly asked Lily, merriment reflecting behind his round glasses.

"Oh...I'm just looking around, thank you. I've never seen candy like this before." Lily mused in a daydream-like haze, examining the back of a box of chocolate frogs.

"_My word_! It isn't often I run into a child or teenager who hasn't been in my store before!" the man announced loudly, grasping his tummy and chortling like a magical Santa Clause, "You simply must try our deluxe candy kit! It includes a tester of all of our candies and chocolates, and we're selling it for a reduced price at the moment!"

Before Lily could respond, the plump man disappeared into the backroom of the store and returned bearing a large package filled with every bonbon imaginable, "What do you say, m'dear? Did you want to give them a try? I guarantee after you taste the chocolate cauldrons and sugar quills you'll be glad you did..."

Lily emerged from Honeydukes ten minutes later (the whole ten minutes spent trying to understand how to pay with magical money), her arms boggled down with bags full of sweets and her purse a little lighter. Feeling invigorated, Lily eagerly headed to Zonko's Joke Shop next.

Zonko's was just a busy as Honeydukes, though the shop was only filled with children and teens. Lily looked around briefly, transfixed by some of the silly tricks on display. She began to giggle when she overheard some young boys huddled in the corner whisper about using Dungbombs—which she understood to be like smelly water-balloons—to prank their siblings and parents.

After experimenting with a nose-biting teacup (which she swore she'd never touch again), Lily left the amusing shop and headed toward the end of Hogsmeade where the large clock-tower presided. She contemplated browsing in Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop or Potage's Cauldron Shop, but instead decided to find a pub, feeling thirsty after her shopping.

Lily continued down the road, past the clock-tower and post-office, until she came upon a ruddy-looking pub at the edge of town, The Hog's Head. Though it looked a bit run-down, Lily decided to enter, too thirsty to head all the way to the Three Broomsticks, located on the opposite side of the village.

The pub—which smelled strongly of soot and beer—was virtually empty, only a few patrons huddled over drinks near the bar. Lily entered the shabby establishment, coughing as the old dust filled her nostrils, and took a seat in one of the booths near the door.

Looking around she intuitively shuddered, the eerie atmosphere sending chills down her spine. As the elderly bartender—who Lily noticed was missing an eye and a leg—hobbled over to her, she suddenly felt that her presence in the grungy bar was a bad idea...

"What'll it be?" the dirty wizard croaked, throwing a mottled menu onto the table before her.

Lily gulped and opened the menu, nervously trying to pick out a non-alcoholic drink she recognized. Looking up from the drink list, she realized all the occupants of the bar—some of whom had their faces covered by hoods—had turned to look at her.

"I'll have the..._er_...pumpkin juice." Lily ordered nervously, the bartender making a gruff noise in acknowledgment and limping back over to the bar.

Lily set her bag down and nervously drummed her fingers on the table, careful not to meet the gaze of a particular hooded individual that had taken it upon himself to blatantly stare at her...

"Are you _lost_, my lady?" a debonair voice suddenly sounded from across the table, causing Lily to jump as she averted her eyes from her hands and looked up into the face of a pale, amber-haired man with crimson eyes.

"No." Lily retorted mechanically, though she was unable to mask the terror that shone in her eyes when she took in his deviant expression.

The man smirked in response, baring two prickly fangs that made Lily unnaturally squeak.

"This isn't a fancy enough establishment for a..._supple_ young lady like yourself," the stranger said smoothly, grabbing Lily's hand from across the table and flashing her a charming smile; she immediately tried to writhe away, but the man's grasp was extraordinarily tight, "Let me take you somewhere worth your while..."

"_No_, thank you." Lily practically hissed, still struggling to wriggle out of the man's hold.

He laughed deeply, seemingly enjoying her resistance, "Ah, but I _insist_."

"I demand you let me go of me _at once_!" Lily ordered fiercely, fear coursing through her whole body as her survival instincts began to kick in. She looked around the bar, hoping someone would step in to help her, but found everyone had conveniently left; even the hooded figure had disappeared.

"Now, don't be impolite." the figure cooed, his predator-like gaze smirking as she tried to pull away from him, "It's your own fault for coming in her alone, you _foolish_ little society g—"

"_PETRIFICUS TOTALUS_!"

Lily yelped as a shower of purple sparks shot by her head and hit the pale man—who she suspected was, in actuality, a _vampire_—square in the chest. He abruptly retracted his hand from her wrist and fell to the pub floor, his arms and legs rigid against his torso. Lily rose from her seat, shocked, to inspect the state of the stunned vampire, noting his inability to speak or move.

"_What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing here_?" the sonorous voice of the spell caster exacted angrily, alerting Lily to his presence behind her.

Lily whipped around, expecting to encounter an angry Frank Longbottom, but instead came toe-to-toe with an outraged Severus Snape, whose face—which was draped by long black hair—regarded her as if she had just committed a criminal offence.

"I...I...I?" Lily stuttered stupidly, so surprised and horrified to learn her callous school tutor had been the one to save her that she could not form a coherent sentence.

Her stumbling seemed to affirm his belief that she was mental for, without another word, Snape grabbed her arm and her bags and dragged her out of the shabby pub and into the adjacent—equally shabby—alleyway. Lily let him pull her away without complaint, still too dazed by his presence to protest his rough handling.

"Don't you have _sense_ enough not to go into a pub like the Hog's Head unaccompanied?" Snape practically spat at Lily once he'd hidden them down the alley, his eyes scrunched up in a mixture of mystification and subdued anger; Lily blinked up at him, just as bemused by him and his choice of forum.

"Were you the cloaked figure at the bar who was staring at me?" Lily inquired suspiciously, furrowing her brow.

"You're avoiding my question." Snape muttered severely.

"You just avoided mine as well." Lily countered logically, unable to resist offering up a challenging smile as she found the dark individual's nature mysterious rather than intimidating.

Snape raised an eyebrow at the obstinate girl, confused by how calm she was in the wake of almost being abducted, "Not that it's relevant, but yes. Now answer my question."

Lily leaned up against the wall of the shadowy alley, careful to sidestep a garbage can, and looked out at the distant street, suddenly wondering why Severus Snape had decided to pull her into an alley to talk rather than probing her outside the pub.

_Strange character..._

She didn't quite know how to react to his questions, afraid the truth might betray her disguise, but felt oddly obliged to be honest with him, "Well...I've never been to Hogsmeade before. I just wanted a quiet drink, and the Three Broomsticks looked very busy. I also didn't want to have to wait for someone to escort me...I don't like being ushered around like a child."

Snape looked even more perplexed than before, considering Lily as if she were an oddity, "Regardless, you should be smart enough to know that it isn't safe for a society witch to venture into a run-down bar _alone_. You're lucky I happened to be there."

Lily frowned, crossing her arms as her temper began to flare, "Are you insinuating I shouldn't be alone because I'm a _woman_?"

Snape scrunched up his face, mystified as to how she did not realize the obvious: "_Yes_. You're a young female who can't defend herself and has no one to defend her...and if that weren't enough to attract debauched wizards and creatures, you're wealthy _and_ the relative of _the_ Albus Dumbledore. I can't think of anyone with a bigger target on their back as you right now."

Lily's face became red with antagonism, "I would have fought that _thing_ off by myself if you hadn't shown up, I _assure_ you!"

Despite himself, Snape chuckled—a deep, soft sound that took Lily completely off guard, "You say you would have fought off a vampire _by yourself_ had I not intervened? Are you well versed in Defence against the Dark Arts spell work, Lady Rockford?"

"Perhaps I _am_." Lily bit back furiously, "Why would you immediately assume I wasn't?"

"British women don't _learn_ Defence against the Dark Arts, Lady Rockford, and I am certain the same goes for women from _Canada_." Snape persevered, a superior smirk gracing his thin lips as he crossed his arms, "Surely you're aware of this."

_How ridiculous..._

"Perhaps if _pig-headed men_ allowed women to be taught Defence against the Dark Arts, there would not be a stigma attached to young, society witches, like _myself_, venturing off by themselves." Lily glared assertively at the wizard.

"It is not a matter of being _allowed_ to learn, but an _unwillingness_ to learn." Snape countered smoothly, his deep voice resounding in the alley, "Wizards learn defence to protect themselves and their wives; there isn't a need to learn, and this is recognized by witches."

"Witches deserve the right to defend themselves just as muchas wizards do." Lily insisted vehemently, not realizing she had bridged the distance between them and was angrily poking Snape in the chest, "If Defence was made available to witches, and it was not looked down upon by wizards, I bet many witches would be interested in learning, _me_ being one of them."

Snape eyes widened in mild surprise, "Perhaps you should bring up your grievance with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. You _are_ related to him."

"Maybe I _wi_—."

"_Would you stop prodding me_?" Snape cut her off in disdain, finally reaching his boiling point.

Lily removed her hand and took a step back from him, suddenly blushing. She inwardly chastised herself for getting worked up by the grumpy wizard; she was obviously doing a very poor job of masquerading as a poised society witch thus far.

As the two lapsed into an awkward silence, neither sure of what to say to the other, Lily suddenly had a revelation:"If that pub has a bad reputation, what exactly were _you_ doing there?"

Snape frowned, annoyed by Lily's observation.

"That's none of your business. Now, you should return to the main streets; I can't stand around entertaining you all day" Snape said pointedly, shoving Lily's bad of chocolates into her hand and abruptly turning to plunge deeper into the alleyway.

His hasty attempt at escape surprised Lily, "Wait! Severus?"

Snape stopped suddenly, his entire body cringing as if she had cursed at him. He looked over his shoulder, glaring at the girl, "_What_?"

Lily gulped, bewildered by the fresh hostility in his voice, "I...I just wanted to thank you for saving me from that vampire...I suppose I'll be seeing you later today?"

Snape paused, making cursory eye contact with Lily before he nodded and disappearing into the blackness of the brick lane, his cloak swirling in his wake.

Lily clutched at her sides, suddenly feeling very alone, and headed back to the main street; she didn't even want to think how angry Frank was going to be with her.

* * *

Four hours has passes, but Kingsley, Moody and Dumbledore did not return.

Sirius sat alone in his wheelchair in the middle of the Great Hall, waiting for word that James had been found. He almost wanted to laugh, knowing James wouldn't be found as he'd likely transformed into his animagus form and taken off into the Forbidden Forest. As Dumbledore and the other Order members were unaware both of them were animagi, Sirius surmised James would go undetected.

He rubbed his temples despairingly and closed his eyes, feeling his worst fears had been confirmed. He understood James Potter better than anybody in the world: Only the destruction of something or _someone_ he truly loved could ever move him to act so wildly.

_Found kneeling in the ruins of London...nearly catatonic...won't tell anyone what's troubling him...trying to escape from his friends, his responsibility, his world..._

James Potter did not bestow love easily, mostly because he wasn't conditioned to do so by his parents—who instead hardened him into becoming the strong and formidable heir to the Potter fortune—and because he did not want to open himself up to pain; yet, James Potter did love. He had a love of Hogwarts, a love of his country, and, more broadly, a love of magic—all of which he would proudly and ardently fight for; however, Sirius knew James would, above all, fight for the people he loved: Justine Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, himself, and Lily Evans.

_I can count the number of people he loves on one hand…_

Sirius knew James was refusing to speak with Order members and making attempts to escape from his respected peers and friends _not_ because something had happened to his sister or to the other Marauders, but because something had happened to his newest love, Lily Evans.

_He's trying to run away from her death…their memories together. He can't handle being around people, distractions…he must want to mourn her in peace…to come to terms with her passing alone…_

Sirius couldn't be sure where James had gone, or how long he'd stay away to recover from the loss of Lily Evans, but he knew he'd have to give his best friend time. Sirius knew of a few of James' favourite hide-outs, but he wouldn't tell the Order of them. He'd eventually seek out James, or James would contact him, but Sirius knew it wouldn't be for awhile. James wanted peace...needed time to recover; Sirius would give him that.

_"I promise you James, you will see her again."_

Sirius flinched, the broken promise a torture.

* * *

Author's Notes

To tide you over until my next update, check out the site I made for this story! www . petalintherainstory . yolasite . com

-pratty prongs princesse

PS Will update asap.

Please continue to read & review!


	19. Chapter 19

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 19: Learning Curve

_It's not what you thought when you first began it,  
and it's not going to stop…it's not going to stop  
__**'till you**__**wise up.**_

_-Aimee Mann_

* * *

"_Alright_, I get the point, Frank!" Lily pronounced in tired exasperation, stepping through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room with a severely hot and bothered Lord on her tail; the fat lady watched them with interest, "I've apologized about twenty times already—"

"Well you can apologize _twenty more _times, but it won't make a difference." Frank exclaimed indignantly, following her in and dumping the parcels he held under his arms onto a nearby table, "How can I get you to understand that your very _life_ is on the line?"

_Imagine how mad he'd be if he found out I was in the Hog's Head and nearly abducted by a vampire..._

"You really think because I chose to browse in other shops instead of wait for you that I somehow _endangered _my life?" Lily demanded in insult, turning to face him with an offended look upon her face, "Why is it everyone thinks I'm absolutely incapable of taking care of myself? Contrary to popular belief, I am _not_ some daftlittle girl!"

Frank narrowed his eyes suspiciously, her choice of prose piquing his interest, "Define '_everyone'_, won't you?"

"_See! You don't even deny it_!" Lily hollered in prideful outrage, suddenly whipping off her high-heeled shoes and storming toward the girls' dormitories, "I will have you know, _Frank Longbottom_, that I am _not_ incompetent, and I do _not_ appreciate you treating me like a child."

"That's _Lord_ Frank Longbottom, _if you please!_" Frank arrogantly called after her, folding his arms in reaction to Lily's unladylike temperament.

Her eyes flashed with ire as she promptly thrust one of her heels at Frank; _hard_. Caught off guard, the shoe hit Frank squarely in the chest, causing him to cough as Lily continued up the girl's staircase, antagonized: "_Well you can bugger off, __**Lord **__Longbottom!_"

Frank frowned and unwittingly began to follow her up the staircase; however, as soon as his foot touched the first step it transformed into a steep slide, causing him to clumsily fall to his knees.

"_Bloody stairs._" Frank embarrassingly muttered as Lily resolutely continued to ascend, her displeasure driving her further away from him. He immediately climbed back into an upright position and brushed the dirt from his suit jacket, "Would you _please_ wait a moment?"

Lily halted at the top of the staircase and looked down at him, her glare icy, "Why should I? So you can berate me some more? Tell me how _thick_ I am? I endured enough of that in the coach ride back, I think!"

Frank sighed, resignedly pulling at the collar of his white dress shirt. He looked up at her wearily, "I don't think you're thick."

"Well your actions suggest _differently_." Lily retorted irritably, ripping the hat she wore off of her head and causing her perfectly-formed curls to become dishevelled.

"I admit I overreacted before…but you must understand how worried I was? You'd been missing for almost an hour; I immediately imagined the worst case scenario and thought you'd been captured by the dark wizards who are searching for you." Frank whispered desperately, his tone grave, "Dumbledore put you in my care…he wanted me to help you become accustomed to the wizarding world…and I'd misplaced you _two hours_ into our first outing. How could I _not_ panic?"

Lily looked into Frank's sincere face and sighed deeply, his explanation making her understand that his anger was derived from the fear he had felt due to her disappearance. Suddenly feeling contrite for being so difficult, she walked back down the staircase and met him at the bottom: "I'm sorry, Frank. I didn't mean to make you worry. You see, I ran into this horrible woman, _Narcissa Black_, and she was asking me questions I didn't know the answers to. I thought it best to escape her before I jeopardized my disguise. This whole process has made me a little crazy…I'm sorry I threw the—"

"You met _Narcissa Black_ in the clothing shop?" Frank cut in automatically, his handsome face paling, "Was Lucius Malfoy with her?"

Noticing Frank's change of mood, Lily suddenly became anxious: "No, she was alone...but I did hear her make mention of a 'Malfoy' when she was speaking with Madam Gladrags. Who is he?"

Frank visibly relaxed, though he still spoke with urgency: "Lucius is courting Narcissa. Both of them belong to _very_ powerful wizarding families which carry a great deal of influence in high society. Should you ever encounter them again—and I'm positive you will—you must be extra careful to keep up your disguise. I don't know if I should tell you this, but many of us suspect Lucius Malfoy of being a follower of _You-Know-Who_."

"_You-Know-Who_?" Lily echoed in confusion, wondering who Frank could possibly be referring to.

Frank cocked an eyebrow, suddenly regarding the young witch as if she had lost her senses, "You know...the dark wizard who's after you? The whole reason you're currently in hiding?"

"You mean _Voldemort_?" Lily inquired blatantly. Frank flinched as she spoke his name, making her feel even more befuddled, "Why did you just cringe?"

"_We don't say that name_." Frank whispered irritably, appearing slightly embarrassed as he straightened up again, "You aren't supposed to say that name out loud...you'll scare people and bring unwanted attention to yourself."

"Why don't people say '_Voldemort_'? You don't seriously expect me to believe wizards..._you_...fear a _name_?" Lily practically laughed, causing Frank to flush shamefully—something he did not often do.

"_No_, not fear...I suppose it's just out of...well...respect, or—"

"_You have respect for a killer_?" Lily demanded in indignation, her face scrunched in repugnance.

"_No, _of course not! I don't know how to better explain it...just don't say the name, alright?" Frank demanded haughtily, losing some of his lordly composure.

"Dumbledore says '_Vold_—"

"_Would you stop arguing_ _with me?_" Frank burst out radically, causing Lily to suddenly begin to giggle and Frank to become even crosser, "What exactly is so_ funny_?"

She continued to chuckle, her eyes sparkling with laughter as she regarded the usually unruffled Lord, "I think that vein on your forehead is going to burst soon."

Her teasing caused Frank to deflate and sigh, her amusement annoyingly contagious, "You are an absolutely _insufferable _woman. I think, even if I survive the war, I'll have been driven mad by you. I should call ahead and have St. Mungo's save a bed for me."

_Survive the war…?_

Lily's eyes misted over as the handsome wizard laughed at his own joke, his remark about the war hitting a sensitive nerve, "You better go get changed and ready for your lessons, though. I believe your tutor will be expecting—"

"Quite right." Lily cut in mechanically, trying to gulp back the reactionary tears that suddenly threatened to spill from her eyes. Without so much as a nod, she abruptly turned away from Frank and bounded toward the dormitories, her long curls vividly bouncing behind her as she took on two stairs at a time, unwilling to show him her upset.

"_Er_…goodbye then?" Frank weakly called after her, his brow furrowing in bewilderment as the tenacious girl swiftly disappeared. He looked to the old man in the oil painting on the wall beside him, his questioning expression revealing his utter confusion.

"Women are very unpredictable, my boy." the portrait said unhelpfully, stroking his beard with a look of sympathy.

"This one more than others, I think." Franked lamented tentatively, flummoxed.

* * *

Lily entered her dormitory and immediately shut the door behind her, praying Frank wouldn't follow her up or impatiently burst in demanding to know why she was distressed.

_That's one story I'll never tell._

She leaned up against the door for a moment, taking deep breathes and willing herself not to think of the messy-haired boy that had left her emotionally devastated. Trying to push the memories of him to the back of her mind in order to focus on successfully blending into a foreign world was proving _exceedingly_ difficult.

_I've just got to keep going. I need to forget for my own good...for my own survival. _

Lily despairingly pulled off her sticky clothing and stockings, plunking down on her bed to massage the bottoms of her aching feet. She laid down her head once she was done fidgeting, closing her eyes and praying for reprieve from the inexplicable pain that was thumping against her chest.

_When is it going to stop? When will I stop thinking about him? _

Lily let out an aggravated whimper and balled her hands into fists, gathering them at her temples as she willed herself not to beat the remembrances from her head. She couldn't begin to explain how she was feeling; polarized emotions held her captive in a place where she could not find solace in hollowness or wholeness, sadness or happiness.

_I'm scared...yet I've never felt so safe. I'm trapped...yet I have more freedom than I ever have. I'm lonely...yet I've never had so many people surround me. I'm disguised...yet I've never felt more like myself..._

Lily felt maddened by the conflicting feelings; helpless to how lost she was within them. She was stuck between two worlds of thought; she could neither dwell on the past and properly mourn James, nor live in the future and commit whole-heartedly to happiness in the magical world...

Lily's depressing spirit was eventually interrupted by a persistent tapping sound on the window above her nightstand. She groaned loudly and attempted to asphyxiate herself with a pillow to drown out the annoying noise, but eventually got up to explore its source.

Perched on the outside sill—its feathers the colour of night and its beady eyes yellow as corn—was a large, anxious raven. Lily observed the bird in tired interest, taking in its majestic frame, then—without thinking twice—pried open the window to allow it entry into the dormitory. She stood back as it swooped into her room and landed on the frame of her bed, shaking out its feathers as it disembarked. For the first time she remained calm in the presence of a magical, letter-wielding bird—the very opposite of wild and untamed.

_Only my second day and I'm already desensitized…_

"Do you have a letter for me?" she softly inquired of the gigantic fowl, causing the raven to suspiciously inspect her out of one of its golden eyes. Once it appeared satisfied, the animal stuck out its leg and presented her with a small scribbled note.

Lily cautiously untied the letter from the raven's leg and re-opened the window to free it again, letting in cool air which drifted from the cloudbank surrounding the high tower. She shivered as the air crept along her arms and belly and hurried back into bed, covering her half-naked body with the furniture's thick satin sheets and opening the letter:

_We will be working on two subjects today: Charms and History of Magic. Make sure to bring your wand, a quill and parchment, and both Year One textbooks. Have a house-elf show you to the library for 2 o'clock._

_Don't be late._

Though the note was unsigned, Lily felt certain it was from Severus Snape; the blatant brevity of the last line was enough evidence of that.

_Charms and History of Magic..._

Lily's stomach suddenly began to twist into uneasy knots. Ever since meeting Severus Snape, whose loathing of her was apparent, she had dreaded her first lesson, feeling sure she would humiliate herself and provide him with more ammunition to mock her with. Strangely, she desired to impress the moody wizard—an aspiration she had never held for any of the teachers at St. Madeline's—and felt the need to prove her worth to him.

_I've gone from being the cleverest girl in school to the girl that knows absolutely nothing..._

Lily hoisted herself up off her bed and gloomily opened her trunk, extracting the first dress she came across. She quickly pulled an olive-coloured frock with a square neckline over her head and fixed her hair into a messy ponytail, secretly grateful Gladrags' shipment of clothing—which would provide her with more choice and therefore prolong the costuming process—had not yet arrived.

After recovering the pair of shoes she had worn to Hogsmeade, Lily returned to her trunk and extracted the beautiful wand Ollivander had lovingly fashioned from the hair of a unicorn, taking a moment to admire the exquisite designs on the handle.

_Made from the hair of a unicorn…I wonder if I'll ever get to see a unicorn..._

Lily jolted out of her fairy-tale trance when a resounding **crack** sounded behind her and Mimi—the tiny, misshapen house-elf she had befriended early on—appeared balancing a stack of books three times her own height.

"Mimi...has...brought...Miss...Aurora's...textbooks!" the house-elf struggled to say as she staggered back and forth, trying to keep the pile from tumbling over.

"Let me help you with those!" Lily exclaimed worriedly, grabbing books out of the house-elf's hands and heaping them onto her bed, "Where did you get all these books from?"

"Lord Longbottom purchased all of Miss Aurora's school supplies and textbooks while Miss Aurora was in the clothier! Lord Longbottom had Mimi bring all of Miss Aurora's things back to Hogwarts!" Mimi explained excitably, seemingly ecstatic to be helping Lily and Frank, "Now Mimi will summon for the rest of Miss Aurora's things!"

Before Lily could interject, Mimi snapped her spidery fingers and the dormitory became a flurry of action. Multiple books and items suddenly formed from thin air and zoomed from one end of the room to the other, fitting into the space's crevices like pieces of a puzzle. Lily gasped as books with strange titles began arranging themselves in empty shelves and pewter cauldrons of various sizes banged against one another as they struggled to neatly line her desk.

Once the activity ceased, Lily immediately began to inspect all of her new instruments and hardbacks, temporary excitement distracting her from her sorrows and nerves.

"Can you help me figure out where the first year textbooks for Charms and History of Magic are?" Lily called offhandedly to Mimi as she began to run her index finger over volume titles organized in her shelves.

"Mimi has already found your Charms textbooks!" the house-elf squeaked gleefully, _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1_ in one of her small hands and _Magical Theory_ in the other.

"_Ah ha_! I've just found _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot as well!" Lily announced triumphantly, brandishing the thickest book she had ever set her eyes upon before, "Now all I need is a quill and parchment and I'm ready for my lessons."

After everything Snape required her to bring was collected, Mimi packed Lily's supplies and books into a large leather bag and grudgingly helped Lily slip the enormously heavy sack over her shoulder, "How long will it take us to get to the library? My back may be broken before then."

"The library is on the fourth floor, Miss Aurora! Don't worry, Mimi will show Miss Aurora a short-cut!" she peeped ardently, exiting the girls' dormitory with a suddenly tense Lily in tow.

_Here goes nothing…_

Despite her overwhelming apprehension, Lily was relieved to be distracted from heartbreaking thoughts of James Potter and his possible wartime fate._  
_

* * *

Severus Snape sat quietly in the Hogwarts library, his posture crooked as he slumped over his _Advanced Potions_ textbook, reading through the tedious instructions to one of his favourite elixirs. Though he practically knew the inscription by heart, he struggled to comprehend the first paragraph, his thoughts drifting to Lady Aurora Rockford—niece of the great Lord Dumbledore, one of the most celebrated wizards in modern history.

Lady Rockford was a conundrum. Never before had Snape heard of Aurora Rockford; a lady whom—had she been part of the social scene—surely would not have gone unnoticed. Though he was certainly no expert on high society, being but a common wizard himself, Snape had attended Hogwarts with many of society's most prominent and wealthy noblemen and women—all of whom, to his utter annoyance at the time, had gossiped incessantly during their schooldays. It was curious to think that the niece of one of society's most beloved wizards had mysteriously flown under the radar…

By the looks of her, Aurora Rockford was not much younger than he was. Snape surmised she likely would've been in her third or fourth year when he was in his seventh—a calculation which inferred she was currently seventeen or eighteen—but he had never seen her at Hogwarts before. Why did she not attend the very institution her uncle headmastered? And why had no one ever spoken of her before?

Even more strange, what was she doing _unaccompanied_ in a dive like the _Hogshead_? Snape couldn't fathom even one noble witch he'd attended Hogwarts with stepping anywhere near such a bar, nevermind possessing so little common sense as to enter it alone out of _thirst_. Did she not care about her reputation and duties, or was she genuinely unaware of _who_ she was and how to carry out her role as an aristocratic lady?

_And now I'm stuck spending my summer teaching this bizarre witch…_

Snape sighed and looked back down at his book, determined to absorb the words of the first paragraph and get the girl off of his mind; however, without even realizing it, he had inked 'Lady Aurora' in the margin of his Potions text. He silently cursed himself, realizing he hadn't been using his erasable ink. Taking out his wand to clear the page, he recoiled when a voice above him sounded, instinctually slamming the book shut.

* * *

By the time Lily finally managed to reach the Hogwarts library with her load of books, she felt like an overworked greyhound. She panted tiredly and clung to the library doorframe to catch her breath, resentful of how many steps the grand staircase had. Once recovered, Lily half-heartedly waved goodbye to Mimi, whose eyes shone with reverence as she watched her go, and focused her gaze on the surprising room before her.

_Oh…my…word…_

Lily's eyes widened in stupefaction as she began to register the aesthetic of the Hogwarts library, for the room was _mammoth_ in size, being even larger than the Great Hall. Looking more like the inside of an old gothic cathedral, the library possessed tall ceilings, stain-glass windows, gargoyle-like sculptures, portraits and antique furniture. Rows of aged books—which were housed in dusty mahogany shelves ten-times taller than herself—seemed to extend back for miles and gave the literary sanctuary a warm, mysterious feel. Lily surmised there were easily more than a hundred-thousand books encased in the castle's hub…

Lurching out of her bewilderment when she nearly tripped on the edge of a paisley carpet, Lily spotted Severus Snape reading at a wooden table near the beginning of the stacks, his nose buried beneath the pages of a thick jade book. He appeared to be lost in thought, his eyes glazed over as he absentmindedly doodled in the margins of the textbook he possessed.

As Lily entered the deathly-silent library to join him—her bag of heavy books awkwardly weighing her down—she noticed a gold-plated message sitting at an empty check-out desk:

_If you rip, tear, shred, bend, fold, deface, disfigure, smear, smudge, throw, drop, or in any other manner damage, mistreat, or show lack of respect towards these books, the consequences will be as awful as it is within my power to make them._

_Irma Pince: Librarian_

Imagining the neurotic librarian's warning to be borderline phobic, Lily moved on, making her way toward her distracted tutor, who didn't realize her presence until she loudly dropped her bag at his table.

"What's that you're so interested in?" Lily inquired curiously as she slid into a seat across from him; she bit back a satisfied smirk as he jerked in surprise, ink splotching in his book.

"_None of your business_." Snape insisted irritably, his black eyes flashing with annoyance as he immediately shut his book and stuffed it into his bag; Lily, however, caught a glimpse of the cover.

"Advanced Potions...sounds like a _fascinating_ topic." Lily teased smartly, a small smile on her face as she stared at the glaring wizard: She envisioned whatever topic the wizard was consumed by was likely a _boring_ one.

"It _is_ a fascinating topic, actually." Snape challenged sharply, though his eyes began to blacken again, "Did you bring everything I asked you to?"

"Yes, everything you asked." Lily reiterated, pulling her books out of her bag and stacking them atop the table precisely, "Which subject will we be beginning with?"

"Charms, then History of Magic after dinner. Later in the week I will introduce Transfiguration, Potions and perhaps Herbology." Snape replied evenly, taking on a scholarly tone as he dug a hand into his bag and pulled out a long list, "Now, to begin—"

"What about Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Lily pressed anxiously, her forehead crinkling as she noticed the subject's absence from his speech.

"You aren't _still_ on about that, are you?" Snape inquired incredulously, narrowing his keen eyes.

"In case you've forgotten, I was almost abducted by a _vampire_ this morning." Lily whispered calmly, though her blue eyes glossed over with passion, "I'm sure you can understand how I'd like to learn how to properly defend myself…_especially_ after that?"

"_As I explained_, it is not an appropriate subject for a woman, nevermind an _aristocratic_ one." Snape persisted with conviction, snorting at the thought of a society girl learning about dark magic and defensive spells: Lily noticed the bitterness in his tone when he enunciated the word 'aristocratic'.

"Listen, I don't care about the status quo: I want to learn it." Lily maintained critically, suddenly folding her arms and going dangerously quiet, her eyes simmering challengingly.

"Well you _should_ care." Snape pronounced, his tone bordering snarky, "In society, ladies are taken care of by _men_, and that's just the way it—"

"Oh, would you stop with the patriarchal_ bullshit_?" Lily spat in uncontrollable frustration, angered by Snape's blatant chauvinism—male ideology she had never experienced in an all-girls boarding school, but underlay every book she had ever read.

As the slick-haired wizard blinked in obvious surprise, Lily knew she was doing the exact _opposite_ of what Frank told her to: convincingly present herself as an aristocratic witch to all she came into contact with.

_Bugger. I must try to maintain control…_

"Please...please can you teach me? This isn't a classroom setting...no one need know about it." Lily breathed more kindly, her eyes communicating her vulnerability and urgency.

_I wonder if I bat my eyelashes a bit more he'll let me have my way…_

Snape looked positively judicious as he stared at her with his brooding eyes. He did not reply straight away: She could tell he was scrutinizing her, questioning her non-complacency and the reasons behind her petition. She knew she wasn't doing a proper job of appearing aristocratic, but—disguise or not—she felt she needed to know how to protect herself: If not from vampires, then from Voldemort himself…

Snape remained quiet for a moment, his facial expression sombre as he pondered her plea: "I couldn't possibly teach you Defense until I've assessed your magical abilities. I...I will _consider_ your request, but for now you will rest this idea, understand?" Snape replied tentatively, his tone low and solemn as he regarded the unusual girl, "I won't deviate from your lessons to accommodate another subject if you can't keep up."

"I'll keep up." Lily pledged immediately, though she had no idea if she could deliver on such an assurance, "I will do whatever it takes."

"I'm not making you any promises." Snape murmured, his eyes devoid of any clues concerning his feelings as he sighed and looked away from the girl, tapping his knobby wand on the wooden table and causing one of his books to abruptly fly open, "Now, open _Magical Theory_ to page twenty-five."

* * *

Frank quietly sat outside on one of the top steps of the stairs leading to the magnificent front doors of Hogwarts castle, his chin resting in his propped-up hands. He watched the sun gradually lower toward the horizon and twilight begin to creep along the enchanted forest and lake, his thoughts pre-occupied with images of Lily Evans.

_Don't even have a bloody chance to think of anyone else, really._

He exhaled deeply, wondering how her first lessons were going. The fact that she had never _willingly_ performed magic before, or that she had never experienced the life of a magical elite, was positively worrisome. He could not conceive how Dumbledore expected her to smoothly transition into magical society: The prospect seemed nearly impossible—nevermind _dangerous_. Didn't thrusting Lily into the pit that was high magical society put her in unimaginable peril? After all, she hadn't even gone a day without encountering an aristocrat suspected of fraternizing with death eaters…

What bothered Frank the most was Dumbledore's plan. How could he possibly trust in Lily's abilities and adaptive skills without even _knowing_ her? Why didn't he just hide her away—become her secret keeper—rather than place her in the cynosure of action? Why did he create a disguise for her that would attract the attentions of all magical aristocrats? Making her the niece of one of the world's most celebrated wizards wasn't exactly _subtle_, either.

_Born of muggle and magic  
both the halflings of dynasties pure  
One with the gift of serpent speech  
the other, courage and will to endure_

_The first, older and hungry  
will rise with dark power  
The second, young and blooming  
will vanquish him in time's bleakest hour_

_Not because of her strength  
nor the emerald in her eye  
instead because of her royal marriage  
and the baby born nigh_

Frank sighed. He knew why the old wizard was intent on incorporated Lily into the magical aristocracy: Dumbledore wanted to ensure that the prophecy—which called for a _royal_ marriage—would come true. But what did the word 'royal' even entail? Did the wizard she would eventually marry have to be in line for the English thrown? Did the thrown even have to be _English_? Or was someone related to the royal family—though not in line to inherit the thrown—sufficient enough to qualify under the definition?

_Bloody prophecies._

Frank wondered if Dumbledore intended to ever tell Lily the true nature of the prophecy. He imagined learning that her child would be the one responsible for vanquishing the Dark Lord would be a heavy burden for her to carry—perhaps even worse than believing _she_ was the one who would have to eventually carry out the task. And what of the man that one day married her? It would take a courageous—perhaps even _mad_—wizard to marry and bear children with a woman who was being fervently pursued by one of the most blood-thirsty wizards in history…

_Then again, if Dumbledore doesn't tell him, he wouldn't even know what he was getting himself into…_

Frank closed his eyes, suddenly feeling angry. He didn't want to have to wait until a child was born and grown or rely on its prophesized powers to be rid of Voldemort: He wanted him dead _now_. How many years until Lily got married or pregnant, or until the child was born and grown? How much longer would the wizarding world have to live in fear?

_We're relying on a scared, powerless girl when we should be relying on ourselves…_

"Ah, there you are, Frank. I've been searching for you."

Frank's eyes flew open when he heard Lord Dumbledore's voice sound from behind him. Hastily straightening up, Frank turned to face the timeworn wizard, whose insightful gaze made it seem as if he knew exactly what he had been thinking about…

"Lord Dumbledore…I did not think you would be back until tomorrow afternoon." Frank said, appearing surprised.

"It was easier penetrating the Canadian archives than I expected." Dumbledore offered a small smile, his spectacles reflecting the orange-red sun, "A few implanted memories and forged documents were all it took. My poor sister is in such ill-health, it was easy to embed memories of Lily."

The thought of Dumbledore magically persuading his own sister to believe she had a daughter made Frank feel uneasy, "Was it really necessary to do that? You think Voldemort would really seek out your sister for verification, should he become suspicious of Aurora Rockford?"

"We must consider every possibility." Dumbledore said mysteriously, folding his hands, "Poor Arianna is so frail that she would not be able to resist his mental exploration into her mind as we would. As it is, she has been safely hidden away and is being cared for. In the very unlikely event that he locates her, she will not unravel our plan."

"And Aberforth?" Frank inquired humourlessly.

"He is aware of our plan. He will not give away Lily's disguise." Dumbledore responded casually, ever cool in the face of quandary, "I will have everything taken care of and will fill you and the others in later tonight. Now, tell me of your trip to Hogsmeade."

"It went well I suppose…" Frank began tentatively, nervous that Dumbledore would be cross with him and regret involving him in Lily's security plan, "Lily was composed when out in the open, though you could tell she was enamoured by the sights. The village was all but empty, and we did not encounter anyone we knew—that is, until Lily came into contact with Narcissa Black in clothier."

"Ah yes, the youngest daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black." Dumbledore remarked softly, his blue eyes tapering in thought, "She'll be attending Hogwarts for her seventh year in September, as I recall."

"She's also sister to Bellatrix and currently courting Lucius Malfoy." Frank muttered warily, his loathing for them apparent in his tone, "I needn't remind you that Bellatrix almost killed Potter in that raid in Paris, and that Lucius has been strangely absent from the social circuit this summer."

"Quite right. How did her encounter with Narcissa transpire?" Dumbledore catechized through frowning lips, intently focused on Frank.

"She didn't really speak of it, but from what I gathered nothing went amiss." Frank said, looking positively culpable, "Lily mentioned leaving after her arrival at the clothing shop, but words were exchanged between the two before her departure."

"I'll have to ask her about it at breakfast tomorrow morning. By the way, I would like you to join us." Dumbledore said kindly, though he was instructing Frank more than asking him, "I've arranged a room in the castle for you. I dare say you'll be spending quite a lot of time here helping me instruct the girl—more than both Moody and Kingsley combined. Of course, you must split your time between Hogwarts and home: I'm sure your mother and father will become suspicious if you are gone for long, and we can't have that."

"I'm accustomed to making excuses for not being around." Frank said, thinking on all the strange times he'd had to leave the manor for Order meetings, "I'll let my mother and father continue believing I'm a closet alcoholic. As long as I attend the right parties and shake hands with the right people, they don't much care what I'm up to."

"Very good. I do hope you know how much your dedication to this cause is appreciated." Dumbledore remarked genuinely, moving toward the castle doors with Frank in tow, "Your talent and age made you the perfect candidate to help protect our dear girl. I daresay she will place more trust in you than Moody or Kingsley—perhaps even _I_—due to your age and the propinquity in which the two of you will be working. Perhaps you'll even become friends."

Frank looked confused, "Lord Dumbledore…what _is_ to be my relation to the fictitious Aurora Rockford? What character will _I_ be playing in your plan?"

Dumbledore smiled mischievously, his blue eyes twinkling, "You'll be courting her."

* * *

"Do you understand how a charm requires both the proper pronunciation and wand movement? If either is done incorrectly, the spell will not only fail, but possibly cause unintended magical effects." Snape lectured monotonously an hour later, referring to a passage in Lily's textbook, "You must also _mean it_ when you cast the spell; if you are not fully committed, the spell will be unsuccessful. I'm sure you are already aware of these exceedingly _basic_ principles, yes?"

Lily quickly scanned the page again, gulping. None of the magical theories they had read over seemed as easy as she had anticipated them to be: "Yes...yes I'm aware of them, of course," she lied.

"Good. I would've been surprised had you not been." Snape said seriously, suspicious of the uncertain look on the girl's face, "They are, after all, elementary principles known by most witches and wizards even before they begin school. Now, let us test your practical knowledge. Open _The Standard Book of Spells _to page eleven."

Lily silently did as she was told, a sinking feeling in her stomach at the thought of having to demonstrate how little she did, in fact, know. Once she turned to the correct page in the textbook, Lily absorbed its contents as fast as she possibly could, stopping only once Snape instructed her to rise from her seat.

"I would like you to demonstrate a few spells for me." Snape started mysteriously, rising from his seat and indicating Lily to stand beside him, "I will tell you what I want you to do, and you will proceed by ascertaining the spell which can perform the task. Understand?"

"_Er_…yes, but—"

"Wand at the ready." Snape commanded austerely, causing Lily to reflexively hold her wand in front of her. The dark haired wizard looked down at the list of spells in his hand and continued, unaware of her nervousness, "First, cause your wand to emit a burst of light."

_Burst of light...burst of light...I just read something about that..._

"_LUMOS_!" Lily exclaimed forcefully, her heart beating fretfully in her chest as she dramatically brandished her wand and its tip began to shine with unnatural brilliance—brilliance which not only illuminated the titles of her textbooks, but made the centre of the library glow dazzlingly.

_I DID IT!_

"Correct…but you needn't shout the incantation—" Snape commented sceptically, wary of the girl's visible relief of being able to produce the simplest spell in the textbook, "—and you need not _show off_. You've made the spell far more powerful than need be—"

_**Show off?**__ This is the first spell I've ever cast, you wanker…_

"—next I want you to put out the light of your wand."

_I read this one, too…_

"_Nox_." Lily practically whispered, resolve building in her voice as she was able to recall the second incantation in the textbook. To her immense relief, the light of her wand went out instantly; she struggled to hide her glee.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_." Snape uttered without acknowledging her achievement, one of the textbooks on their table floating up into the air, "Next, cause this book to descend back to the table."

"_Descendo_!" Lily initiated immediately, careful to pronounce the incantation correctly as she carefully shifted the book back onto the wooden tabletop with subtle downward movements.

_This magic thing isn't as hard as it looks!_

"Good. Now produce a jet of water from the end of your wand." Snape continued evenly, his eyes attentive to her every movement.

…_Oh bullocks._

"Er—_Incendio_!" Lily shouted haphazardly, pointing her wand toward the table and pronouncing the first spell that popped into her head.

Snape gasped before the spell even took effect, prepared when the table suddenly burst into a ferocious fire and flames angrily engulfed its wooden shape, licking toward the bookshelves. At the sight, Lily yelped in disbelief, her eyes wide as the auburn fire she produced emitted a torrent of intense heat and cloudy smoke that swirled toward the library ceiling…

"_FINITE INCANTATUM_!" Snape roared assertively, attempting to duel the fierce flames with his wand. Once the fire was extinguished—a feat which took almost a minute—he turned on the stunned girl, sweat beaded on his brow from his fire fight, "_Are you trying to burn down the entire library?_"

"I t-t-thought that was the right spell." Lily stuttered stupidly, watching one of her new quills smoulder on the tabletop, "_I'm sorry_, I—"

"That display was the exact _opposite_ of what I wanted you to do, _wasn't it_?" Snape demanded haughtily, his cool resolve slipping, "_This_ is what I wanted you to do: _Aguamenti_!"

Lily watched as a stream of clear-blue water spouted from the end of Snape's wand and puddled on the floor before him. Without being told, Lily shamefully replicated his wand movement and enunciated "_Aguamenti_", causing water to spill from the end of her wand and meld with the growing pool on the floor.

Snape looked down at the water angrily, than back to the silent girl, "How is it you can confuse such _rudimentary_ spells with one another? Not even a first year student would make such a _disastrous_ and _clumsy_ mistake. Not only that, but you conjured a strain of _enchanted fire_ which is exceptionally dangerous and _forbidden_ for students to use!"

Lily suddenly felt livid, Snape's mockery upsetting her as he would never know of her true disadvantage. He was trying to make her feel stupid, and he was succeeding; yet she had been able to produce a few spells without any instruction and without any prior knowledge of magic…

"What has my uncle told you of my magical abilities? What level would he consider me to be at?" Lily demanded, her eyes hardening into ice, "How high are your expectations of me, exactly?"

"After that display, I can tell you my expectations are very low, indeed." Snape bit back unkindly, his dark eyes—more troubled that characteristically cold—intensely regarding her, "Dumbledore never indicated what level you are at; hence my testing of you. Based upon your age, I expected you to be at _least_ a moderate spell caster…but it seems you are barely better than a novice."

Lily griped her wand tightly, furiously staring back at the cruel teacher as his offensive words scarred her deeper than any physical altercation could. All her life she had been the brightest student—her intelligence her primary source of self-esteem—but now she was being made to feel like a failure.

"I suppose I should take your disparaging opinion of my abilities as a compliment, _Professor Snape_." Lily practically spat as she turned and began gathering up her History of Magic and Charms textbooks in her arms; Snape watched her with a curious frown.

"I won't bother imagining how you can manage that." Snape scoffed arrogantly, his frown turning into a patronizing smile, "And you can _stop_ packing up your books, little Dumbledore. We aren't finished here."

_Little Dumbledore? _

"_Yes, we are._" Lily pronounced wrathfully, her blue eyes reflecting an emotion indistinguishable to Snape as she suddenly brushed past him with her bag slung over her shoulder toward the door.

"I can't say I'm surprised you're giving up." Snape called after her spitefully, causing Lily to come to a halt and turn, "Entitled little _society girls_ don't have the discipline to become great spell castors. You are walking proof that women don't _belong_ in Defence Against the Darks Arts."

"I'm _not_ giving up." Lily retorted dangerously, a sudden mixture of fierce motivation and desire causing her blood to indignantly boil, "Test me again tomorrow, and we'll see if your opinion of me changes."

"Somehow I doubt it will." Snape jeered lowly, irritably turning to collect his books and tools.

_Why that rude son of a—_

"Why is it you're _so_ unpleasant?" Lily blurted out in response to his cynicism, her fiery temper getting the better of her.

Snape blinked, slightly taken-aback, "Perhaps it's because I have to deal with ignorant little _brats_ like you." He slammed his textbook down on the table and—when he noticed she had not moved from her spot—suddenly looked sharply in her direction, "Weren't you on your way out?"

Lily bit down on her lip hard. She could no longer stand the presence of the mean-spirited, rude Severus Snape, and was sure if she remained even a moment longer she would set him on fire with the ill-conceived spell she had mistakenly performed.

"It's hard to believe someone as miserly as you did such a gallant thing only a few hours ago." Lily muttered stingingly, suddenly struggling to hide her distress from the wizard; she did not want him to know how much his words harmed her, "I bet now you wish you'd never saved me."

As the girl turned and exited the library, inaudibly plunging into the adjacent stone hallway, Snape's chest panged with guilt—an emotion quite foreign to him. He looked down at his potions textbook and flipped to the page where he had absentmindedly written down her name, his heavy brow creased in despondency.

* * *

Lily raced headlong down the corridor leading away from the library, angry, woundedtears threatening to spill down the sides of her cheeks. She hadn't the slightest idea where she was going, but after nearly twenty minutes of speed-walking, three flights of moving stairs, and the careful avoidance of two ghosts, Lily had arrived at the ajar door of a classroom on the first floor. Not feeling up to returning to her dormitory or facing Mimi in such a fragile state, Lily plunged into the room and shut the door behind her. Once it was firmly closed, tears welled in her eyes—the product of a confusing, yet exhilarating day. Lily heaved a strained breath and collapsed into the nearest chair, quietly laying her head down on the desk she occupied and blinking back tears she was too tired to weep.

Inhaling deeply, Lily recalled the words Severus Snape had only moments ago said to her. She felt as if he had stolen something from her: confidence in her own abilities and the staggering joy and pride she had felt when she had successfully conjured her first spell ever…

_Stupid bloody professor…what the hell is his problem? I'll show that idiot...by the end of it __**I'll **__be teaching __**him**__ how to properly cast spells…miserable prat…_

Lily ripped open her schoolbag and plunked all of her textbooks onto the desk before her, placing _The Standard Book of Spells_ on the top of the pile. Turning to the page she and her wretched teacher had left off on, she began to read carefully, taking in every detail of every incantation with unparalleled comprehension.

_I won't let him win. I'm going to prove him wrong._

She wouldn't sleep until the book was finished and she could demonstrate to Snape she was just as capable as any wizard. The night would be a long one, but she didn't care.

_Lucky I have a little gift he doesn't know about…_

* * *

Author's Notes

Hi all! Sorry this chapter took so long to write…a case of writer's block coupled with my last (and busiest!) semester of university stalled my progress. Lucky for you, a good portion of the next chapter has already been written :) I do apologize for keeping James and Lily apart for so long, but I promise their reunion will be so epic that it'll be worth the wait ! (PS, the reunion **should** be 2 chapters from now, but no promises!)

If you love this story, please review! If you want to see James and Lily reunited soon, please review! If you want to put a smile on my face, please review!

-pratty prongs princesse

(PS, I love my fans. Over 160 reviews for the last chapter—that's INSANE. Second most reviewed chapter in the whole story! If it wasn't for that, I wouldn't have struggled through this chapter, believe you me! Check out the story website to tide you over until my next update! www. petalintherainstory. yolasite. com ! )


	20. Chapter 20

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 20: Broken

_The broken clock is a comfort_  
_It helps me sleep tonight_  
_Maybe it can stop tomorrow_  
_From stealing all my time_

_And I am here still waiting_  
_Though I still have my doubts_  
_I am damaged at best_  
_Like you've already figured out_

_I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing_  
_With a broken heart_  
_That's still beating_

-Lifehouse

* * *

He awoke with a start, violently shaken from his faceless dream when a sliver of glaring sunlight crept through one of the covered windows. He opened one eye, then closed it again, unsure of whether or not he was actually awake. It was becoming hard to distinguish between reality and his dreams, for both places felt lifeless and bare...filled to the brim with slow-moving shadows and the quiet rumblings of melancholy.

He emotionlessly arose from his rigid armchair and crossed the room, abruptly yanking the mottled curtains closed. The dusty study—already disguised from any light—plunged into further darkness. He returned to his pompous chair, satisfied the world no longer intruded upon his unconscious space, and curled back into its harsh embrace. There were many more comfortable places he could inhabit, but he did not want to feel relaxed or restful; satisfying his physical needs would only allow his thoughts to drift to more cognitive matters—matters which inflicted more pain than any physical torture could provide.

Sleep did not come as he had hoped it would. He suddenly felt inexplicably annoyed to be awake, for his body ached with hunger pains he wasn't willing to placate—at least not yet. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, or how long he had been in the woodland manor—_two days, perhaps?_—but he hardly cared. All he wanted to do was drift back to his slumberland and ease the poisonous agony thumping against his chest.

_I just want to forget._

Obliviating himself had crossed his mind, but he wasn't very good at charm work. He wondered if accidentally wiping his entire memory—a move which would render him a completely different person, though free him from his agony—would be such a bad thing, but begrudgingly decided against it. The thought of his best friend's reaction was too much to bear: He wasn't willing to abandon another person he loved.

Then he thought of _her_…of losing his memory of her. Would it really be easier to just forget, or would it be like losing her all over again? He knew he could never do it, for doing so would be letting go of her. The acidic sting in his stomach that accompanied her every memory made him want to keel over and vomit, but the thought of her going unremembered was even more sickening to him.

_Who will remember her when I'm gone…?_

He closed his eyes again, resisting the agony that began to swell within him by retreating to a lifeless little compartment in the back of his brain which allowed him some numbness. There he had taken refuge from the horrors of reality; there he would remain until he could no longer resist the temptation of food and water.

The stairway in the outside hallway creaked with age as he steadied his breathing and began to drift back into his quiet fantasy. Though his wits were dulled from dehydration and a lack of nutrition, he sensed a sudden, unmistakable presence in the room. He sighed, reluctantly backpedalling from his sleepy coping mechanism.

"What are you doing here, Black?" James Potter inquired in a deadened voice, his empty eyes fixated on the cold fireplace before him as he became aware of the low footsteps approaching him from behind.

Sirius suddenly came into James' view, his face weather-beaten, scruffy and uncharacteristically funereal. He inhaled sharply when he took in James' tired appearance, his eyes clouding with an indistinguishable emotion, and dug his hands into his trouser pockets, "I thought I'd wait a couple weeks to find you…I was going to give you a chance to gather yourself…to grieve—" The word struck James' heart like a bold of lightning, "—but I thought, to hell with it. I'm not going to allow you to wallow in self-pity—at least not alone."

James' glance flickered from the fireplace to Sirius, still steely and benumbed. He regarded Sirius for a moment, taking notice of his fading battle wounds, then offered a simple reply, "You always were impatient."

"…I thought you were going to be upset with me for searching you out." Sirius said tentatively, treading as lightly as possible on the shells of James' former self, "I expected at least a curse word or two?"

Sirius was disheartened by James' comatose response, his frozen demure and haunted eyes strickening him with worry, "I don't feel anger…I don't feel anything, really…except…"

James cringed as if he'd been whipped across the back with a sharp piece of leather. Sirius pulled a chair in front of James' and sat down, reaching out to grab his shoulder, "Talk to me, Prongs."

That was all it took. At the sound of his voice, James shoulders began to pitch back and forth forcefully, the flimsy walls of his resolve crumbling and trauma exuding from his every feature and movement. A painful growl escaped from beneath his gritted teeth as he closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists, attempting to strangle the grief that he could no longer conceal.

"Prongs…" Sirius whispered helplessly, his voice bordering panic as he knowingly recognized what was burdening his friend: "What's…what's happened to _Lily_?"

James slowly looked up at Sirius, his red-rimmed eyes suddenly coming alive with fanatical sorrow, "The school was…a priest told me all inside…they didn't…none of them…the girls with families left weeks ago…but _she_…she had no…"

His gaze shifted back to the floor as he was unable to continue, a mixture of denial and horror contorting his usually handsome face. Sirius watched him fearfully, unable to find a trace of his best friend in the tormented man before him.

"Prongs…what if she made it out? Have you considered whether she was moved to another location before the bombings?"

"_Don't you get it_?" James demanded fiercely, his despondency dissipating as he aggressively jumped to his feet and crossed the room toward the window. He paused there for a moment, then looked back to Sirius, his tone rising, "Lily is _DEAD_, Sirius! She didn't have anyone! _I_ was supposed to protect her…_I_ was going to be the one to save her, take her away from that awful school, but _I_ left her to _DIE ALONE_!"

"How can you possibly blame—?" Sirius started desperately.

"BECAUSE IT _IS_ MY FAULT!" James bellowed ferociously, grabbing the iron poker by the fireplace and brutally thrashing it against the window, causing the glass pane to shatter dramatically. Seeing the uncertainty on Sirius' face, James roared in aggravation and threw down the metal instrument, frustrated he could not get a handle on his emotions and was appearing like a madman.

"It is the _Germans'_ fault." Sirius maintained in angry determination, his beautiful eyes darkening with intensity as he moved closer to James, "You _were_ protecting her…you were fighting them on her behalf!"

"But it wasn't enough, was it?" James demanded tiredly, his outburst having drained the only energy he had. He moved toward the fireplace, glass crunching beneath his feet, and leaned against the mantle, sadly regarding Sirius' reflection in the cracked, dirty mirror above it, "If I hadn't left, she'd still be alive, Sirius. If I hadn't let my pride convince me that I had a place in this muggle war, you wouldn't have those scars on your face."

"From what I hear, you saved my life up there." Sirius noted grimly, his declaration deep and his tone heartfelt.

"Yes…but I didn't save Lily's." James breathed, his voice cracking as he looked away.

Sirius swallowed hard, carefully coming up behind James and putting a hand on his shoulder again, "Her loss is a tragedy, Prongs. I am truly…_so sorry_. I know how you loved her…"

"Please," James baulked, the word 'love' ringing in his ears like heavy, forlorn church bells, "please, leave me…"

"My friend, there is nothing for you here." Sirius insisted gently, worriedly looking about the decaying manor, "Come with me, we'll go to one of my family's estates in Scotland. You can recuperate there comfortably, and the old house elf can prepare meals—"

"No." James replied lowly, his voice resolute, "I'll be moving somewhere new every other day. I suspect there will be people looking for me…and I do not wish to be found."

Sirius frowned, defeated by James' vehemence to be alone: "Your mother has been searching for you. I daresay she does not know you well enough to know where you would hide, however."

"She is the last person on this earth I wish to see right now." James responded bitterly, seemingly unsurprised by Sirius' report.

"And what of the Order, Prongs? Moody is furious with you for leaving without explanation. I don't know if Dumbledore has members out looking for you. He wants you to return to the Order…he said he needs us both, now more than ever."

"I will always be loyal to the Order." James declared evenly, his voice becoming softer as numbness began to set in again, "As for my involvement in the future, I cannot say. I do not wish Dumbledore to know what is going on, nor about my whereabouts. Will you give me your word you won't say anything?"

"You needn't ask." Sirius sighed, "What will you do?"

"I don't yet know." James whispered, turning to face Sirius, "Please…don't come looking for me again. When I'm…_ready_…I'll come back."

Sirius narrowed his eyes, wholly unhappy with leaving James to his grief. He didn't know what he was capable of in his heartbroken state…if James would do something reckless and put his own life in danger, or decide to never return to his former existence. What if he never recovered? What if he got lost in his own grief, and the man he knew never resurfaced?

"I will respect your wishes, but if you don't write to me, I will come looking for you, Potter. Mark my words."

James mutely nodded, dropping back into his battered chair and wearily laying his head against the furniture. He minded Sirius as he dejectedly passed by him and headed for the door, gradually closing his eyes as weakness pulled down on his lids. Before he was able to drift back to sleep, Sirius' fading voice sounded in the distance.

"It may not seem like you have anything to live for now, James, but Dumbledore and the Order need you…and I need you, too."

* * *

Author's Notes

Poor James! Please continue to read and review :)

pratty-prongs-princesse


	21. Chapter 21

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 21—A Half Split in Two

_Everything about you pains my envying,__  
__Your soul can't hate anything.__  
__Everything about you is so easy to love,__  
__They're watching you from above._

_Give me all the peace and joy in your mind…_

-Muse

* * *

_Alohomora…Lumos…Petrificus Totalus…Wingardium Lev—_

"MY WORD! There you are, dear girl!" a high-pitched, jovial voice sounded from above Lily's sleeping head, causing her to instinctually jolt out of her semi-conscious slumber and emit a reactionary yelp, "There, there, my lady! No need for alarm, I assure you!"

Lily's gaze quickly shifted from her textbook-covered desk to the floating figure above her—a figure which, to her utter confusion, was both transparent _and _outfitted in medieval hose and a neck ruffle…

"Please, you must pardon me, dear Aurora! You see, I was so glad to discover you that I acted without a second thought! So discourteous of me to creep up on you while you are hard at work, studying like a scholarly Ravenclaw!"

Lily rubbed her scratchy eyes with the knuckles of her hands, second-guessing the sight before her, then squinted up at the ghost again, willing her cognitive motor skills to kick in. "S-Sir Nicholas?" she questioned blearily, suddenly recognizing his wispy hair from a few days back.

"Yes! It is I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, resident ghost of the noble House of Gryffindor!" the ghost cheerily announced in a thick English accent, clearly a fan of his long-winded title.

"Well…_er_…good morning to you." Lily managed inelegantly, looking out one of the classroom's windows to confirm it was, indeed, morning.

_Damn, when did I fall asleep?_

"Dear lady, I implore you to call me _Nick_." the lordly apparition insisted gallantly, his white moustache curling over his smiling lips, "All the students refer to me as such. I'd like to think I am the sort of ghost who any questioning youth could turn to, and I certainly am not adverse to becoming acquainted with students—although I must, _of course_, ensure that the rules and principles of this fine institution are upheld—!"

Lily blinked stupidly as the loquacious spectre continued to blather: "—I must admit, I tend to turn a blind eye to some of my Gryffindor students. I just can't bring myself to snitch on fellow Gryffindors. We are a loyal bunch, though not as loyal as the Hufflepuffs—that is their renowned characteristic, after all. Of course, if a Gryffindor student were to perform a particularly immoral act in my presence, I would certainly step in…but I would just hate to be the reason the House loses points…although it would ultimately fall upon the shoulders of the student in question. Then again, most Gryffindor students are _quite_ moral, so—"

_Good God, it's too early for this…_

"So sorry to interrupt, Sir Nick, but was there a reason you were looking for me?" Lily interjected as kindly as she could, batting her eyelashes apologetically.

"_Ah yes_, of course! That little house-elf of yours dispatched a few of us to find you. The Bloody Baron, Fat Friar and Grey Lady are all still searching for you, I'm sure. I must say, I'm not at all surprised I was the one to find you: I have a natural knack for discovery. Now if _only_ the headless hunt would recognize what an excellent addition I would be to such a—"

"Ah…_sorry_…but did Mimi say why she was looking for me?" Lily intersected again, wishing the friendly apparition would get to the point, "I just don't want to worry her…"

"Do not apologize, dear girl! I often get carried away." Nick chuckled heartily, his partially severed head wobbling dangerously on his neck as he laughed; Lily hid her disgust with an uncomfortable smile, "The house-elf—Mimi, did you call her?—wanted to prepare you for breakfast with Headmaster Dumbledore this morning. Apparently he has scheduled a lovely breakfast. An old favourite of mine, _Lord Frank Longbottom_, is to dine with the two of you as well. You know, Lord Longbottom really was one of the most _skilled_ Gryffindors to ever pass through these hallowed halls. He was a _marvellous_ Quidditch player, along with Lord Pot—"

She sighed. He was too sweet to be truly annoying.

"Thank you for informing me, Sir Nick. I don't mean to offend, but I really must get back to Gryffindor tower to ready myself for breakfast." Lily intruded before the ghost could embark on another verbal tirade, "If you could point me in the direction of the staircase, I'd be much obliged."

"The pleasure it _all_ mine, Lady Aurora! The staircase is just down that corridor." Nick explained chivalrously, pointing left, "You know, when _I_ first began haunting this school, the staircases—"

Before Sir Nick could finish his next sentence, Lily offered a cordial curtsy before gathering up her books and rushing into the hallway. As she hurried toward her dormitory—desperate for a shower and fresh clothing—she began to think of all the spells she had read about the night before, a feeling of accomplishment swelling in her chest.

* * *

Frank effortlessly jogged down a flight of moving stairs from his second-floor accommodations, absentmindedly fiddling with the cuffs of his dress shirt. He stepped into the sun-drenched Great Hall and hurriedly crossed the large space, taking no notice of his amazing surroundings as he was already so familiar with the place. _That's what happens when you attend school here for seven years_. Heading for the Dining Hall, his shoes loudly clicking against the stone, he continued his struggle to properly button up his shirt, flustered.

As Frank pierced the Dining Hall, which was all but empty, he inwardly reminded himself to act pleasantly for propriety's sake—a task which would prove most difficult as he was in a _very_ bad mood that morning. Spotting Lord Dumbledore serenely sipping a cup of hot tea at the professors' table, which was properly arranged with three ornate place settings, Frank plastered a strained smile on his face and went to join him.

"Have a fitful sleep, Lord Longbottom?" Dumbledore commented lightly as Frank took a tentative seat beside him, his blue eyes remaining loyally glued to the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ he was reading from behind his half-moon spectacles, "I could have a sleeping draft brewed for you if your insomnia persists."

_How the hell does Dumbledore know I didn't sleep last night?_

"_How do?—_no, I don't think that will be necessary." Frank replied in hidden embarrassment, deciding it best to drop his inquiry, "I just had a lot on my mind last night."

"Understandable. I've burdened you with quite the task, after all." Dumbledore said casually, putting down his paper and pouring himself another cup of tea from the beautifully intricate china pot before him, "Tea?"

Frank ignored the wizard's polite query, suddenly looking worried, "Lord Dumbledore, if I have appeared ungrateful for the responsibility you have bestowed upon me, please accept my deepest apologies. I am honoured you have placed your trust in me. If I seem…overwhelmed…it is only because I have never been given a duty of such magnitude."

Dumbledore smiled at the young Lord, quietly amused by his alarm, "You needn't fear my perception of you, Frank. The task _is_ an overwhelming one, and it will consume much of your time—nevermind interfere with your personal life. I'm sorry I never asked before, but are you currently interested in any young ladies?"

"No." Frank replied immediately, making Dumbledore's eyes dance with mischievous suspicion.

"No? I admit, I have heard rumours that there _is_ a particular young lady you are interested in, but have yet to formally pursue…"

"_No_, there is no one." Frank insisted too vehemently to successfully convince Dumbledore.

"If you are sure…"

"I promise you, Lord Dumbledore, courting Aurora won't be a problem for me. However, I do beseech you to tell me how you imagine my fictitious involvement with Aurora—" Frank proceeded to use Lily's undercover name in case anyone was listening, "—is going to affect my personal life?"

"How do you think your parents will react when they hear of your purported courtship?" Dumbledore questioned blithely, taking a sip from his warm cup as he silently pondered the validity of Frank's previous insistence, "I imagine your match will be the talk of the town."

_I never even thought of that…_

"I…I suppose it will be." Frank murmured uncertainly, vaguely grabbing the goblet of orange juice before him and taking a healthy gulp, "When my parents hear that I'm courting _your_ niece, they'll likely be pleased. I'm sure any noble wizarding family would jump at the possibility of being related to you through marriage."

Dumbledore chuckled softly, too modest to admit that Frank was absolutely right: "Be that as it may, you needn't disguise your anxiety from me. I am confident you will carry out your role professionally."

"Thank you, Lord Dumbledore." Frank said humbly, feeling a little reassured, "You mentioned yesterday that you chose me for this mission because of my age and status, but I wondered: Why did you not pick Potter, Black, or one of the Prewett brothers?"

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, taking another sip of his tea and summoning a house elf to inquire as to why Lily had not yet arrived. When the house-elf disapparated, he spoke again with unwavering confidence: "I did not want to put Gideon or Fabian in a position where they would have to lie to the other, and I do not believe either could have convincingly carried out the task of courting Aurora. Furthermore, their family's current reputation is not as respectable as your family's, especially due to dear Molly's marriage to our Arthur Weasley—who, as you know, does not belong to a noble family. They make such a lovely pair though, don't you agree?"

"Yes…I heard Molly was disinherited, though." Frank said mechanically, humouring the quirky wizard.

"Poor dear, she certainly was." Dumbledore affirmed kindly, "As for Potter and Black, I also did not want to place them in a situation where they would have to lie to one another. They have been best friends ever since their first year at Hogwarts: I believe they both would have confided in the other, even if I had expressly forbade it. Besides this, Sirius' womanizing reputation and ongoing family feud made him an undesirable candidate. I don't particularly want Aurora associated with the Black family, either."

_Looks like Dumbledore is getting into the habit of calling Lily 'Aurora', too…_

"Why? Because half of the Black family is made up of death eaters and the other half aspire to become death eaters?" Frank mused, a smirk cracking his mouth.

"It seems Sirius is the only member of the Black family firmly on our side." Dumbledore affirmed, a slight frown on his face, "Though I do hold hope for young Nymphadora…"

"O.K., I understand Sirius…but what about Potter? He is from a reputable family; a family arguably more wealthy and powerful than my own. I won't go so far as to say he is a better dueller than I am, but you made him a member of the Order while he was still in his seventh year at Hogwarts while you didn't invite me to join until a year after I graduated." Frank pointed out acutely, secretly proud that he was chosen over James.

_Bloody git beat me in almost every subject in school…about time I defeated him in __**something**__._

"I considered giving the mission to James…" Dumbledore trailed off for a moment, his cerulean orbs clouding in thought, "However, for the past couple months his involvement with the Order has been minimal, and he seems more distracted than usual. I suppose my suspicions concerning his commitment have been confirmed in light of recent events."

_No kidding._

"Have Mad-Eye or Kingsley caught up with him since he escaped yesterday morning?" Frank questioned with piqued interest, staring intently at the stately wizard.

"No, his whereabouts are still unknown to us." Dumbledore commented bluntly, apparently uninterested in discussing the topic with Frank, "I suspect he will return eventually to explain himself, but until then we shall wait."

"Wait? You aren't suspicious he's up to something? Surely Black knows where to find him?"

"No, I am not suspicious, nor am I worried Lord Potter will join the ranks of Voldemort, as I detect you are implying." Dumbledore articulated with poise, signalling the end of Frank's questioning, "I will not ask Sirius to betray the location of James—though I am certain he wouldn't even if I asked. We will all simply await his return. Do not give another thought to the matter, please. We have more important things to worry about now."

"Yes…yes of course, Lord Dumbledore." Frank agreed respectfully, immediately quietening his curiosity so as to not affront the old wizard.

The two aristocrats sat in silence for a moment, the only sound in the hall being the distant clanging of dishes against one another as a house elf cleaned away the remains of a breakfast previously enjoyed at the Slytherin table. Breaking the silence, Dumbledore finally proclaimed the question on both of their minds: "My, my, where ever could our dear Aurora be?"

* * *

"I'm going to be _so_ late for breakfast!" Lily cried anxiously as she attempted to fix her freshly-dried hair into an up-do, "If I had known I was expected this morning I wouldn't have stayed up reading so late—"

"Miss Aurora _must_ put on her shoes and meet Master Dumbledore and Master Longbottom in the Dining Hall!" Mimi peeped eagerly, placing a pair of noir heels in front of Lily as she examined herself in the room's talking mirror.

"I'm going as quickly as I can!" Lily exclaimed in exasperation, slipping on the shoes Mimi laid out for her while also smoothing dark pink lipstick over her lips, "It isn't easy being a female, you know!"

"Yes, Mimi knows." the house-elf replied confidently, flattening the wrinkles in Lily's dress with her spidery fingers, "Mimi has three dish towels she must pick from every day, and Mimi is never sure which one will look best each morning."

Lily bit back a giggle, instead providing the little creature with a convincing nod. Taking a moment to scrutinize her appearance, she couldn't help but admire the professionally-tailored dress she wore. It was a deep navy colour with short sleeves and a hem that stopped precisely between her knees and ankles. A damask design—overlaid in a lighter shade of navy—covered the entire frock, and near the sweetheart neckline were little blue stones that gave the dress a touch of sparkle (Lily was sure they were mock sapphires, but, in reality, they _were_ sapphires).

"While Miss Aurora is down at breakfast Mimi will put all of Miss Aurora's new clothes away in her wardrobe. Does this please Miss Aurora?"

As the shipment of clothing Lily (or, technically, Frank) had ordered from Madam Gladrags' had arrived that morning, Lily's dormitory room was positively _littered_ with clothing, shoes, hats and accessories—most of which she had no idea where or how she was going to store. There were fancy party dresses, simple frocks, light summer jackets, gingham skirts, ruffled blouses, fur-trimmed coats, hats of various shapes and sizes, flat and heeled shoes, and boxes of pantyhose; every fashion accessory a girl could possibly dream of owning.

"Yes…thank you, Mimi. I would greatly appreciate that."

_Not like I'd know what to do with all of these clothes, anyway…_

As Lily took one final look at her new dress before leaving the room, she noticed a small, cylindrical pocket covertly sewn down the length of the skirt. Having no idea what the pocket was for, she turned to Mimi, confused, "What is supposed to go in here?"

"Miss Aurora's wand, of course!" the house-elf smiled up at Lily, her toothy grin spreading from ear to ear as she enthusiastically held out Lily's wand like a squire presenting a knight his sword, "Wizards and witches are to never part with their wands, Miss Aurora. Wand compartments are sewn into all wizarding attire…does Miss Aurora not know this?"

"_Er_…wizarding fashion in Canada is a bit different, Mimi." Lily managed clumsily, immediately changing the subject to distract the sweet house-elf from the holes in her knowledge, "Now, how about you escort me down to the Great Hall? I'd very much like to hear all about your duties around the school."

"M-M-Mimi would be _honoured_." the house-elf squealed with excitement, the prospect of Lily taking an interest in her day-to-day activities making her positively beam.

As Mimi ran to open the dormitory door, already beginning to spout off all of her daily duties, Lily slipped her wand into her dress and followed in her chattering wake, tiredly wondering what the day had in store for her.

* * *

Severus Snape lingered by one of the two wild-boar statues that flanked the Great Hall, quietly hidden in the statue's shadow…out of sight from any who came barrelling down the staircase toward the Dining Hall. He patiently waited there, his eyes darting about the space in search of his intended target. When his black orbs befell Lord Frank Longbottom determinedly gambolling down the stairs and pressing into the Dining Hall—unbeknownst to his presence—he raised an intrigued eyebrow.

_I wonder what Longbottom is doing here…_

Snape was one of the most intelligent wizards to ever graduate from Hogwarts—an institution he had called home for more than seven years now. He had been top of almost every class during his school years, bested by only a few others in subjects he deemed less important, and had achieved top honours in his two favourite subjects: Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. His achievements were regarded by many as especially extraordinary because almost all of his academic competition was of noble birth—a status prerequisite all students were required to have in order to attend the magical institution. Eleven-year old Snape had not met this prerequisite, lacking any noble blood, but had instead been awarded a special scholarship only offered to common witches or wizards whom possessed extraordinary talents; talents which made them _worthy_ of attending such an institution. If it hadn't been for the scholarship, created by Dumbledore in the early years of his reign as Headmaster, Snape would have never been able to attend Hogwarts.

Recognizing his remarkable magical prowess from a young age, Dumbledore had furthermore offered Snape the position of Potion's Master following his graduation in seventh year—an offer which he had immediately accepted and which made him the youngest professor to ever teach at Hogwarts. Now approaching his fourth year of educating, Snape had lived at Hogwarts long enough to know who allied themselves with Albus Dumbledore…

Visits to Hogwarts in the summer were the most telling. Snape had seen Auror Alastor Moody and Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt pass through the castle doors many times, and it appeared Frank Longbottom was now making frequent trips as well. Besides them, over the past three years Snape had noticed frequent visits from Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadows, Fabian and Gideon Prewett, Arthur Weasley, and numerous others he did not know by name, either because they did not hold prominent positions in society, were not of noble birth, or had not attended Hogwarts. Most disturbingly were the sporadic appearances of Snape's three least favourite wizards in the world: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and _James Potter_.

_I would love to run into one of those three down a dark alley…_

Snape didn't know if Dumbledore was aware that he had taken tally of those who often visited him, or if he just didn't care. Dumbledore knew he wasn't stupid: Snape surmised Dumbledore likely suspected that he had come to the conclusion that the old wizard was heading some sort of secret society—a society whose likely mission was to combat the rise of the magical world's newest fiend, _Voldemort_. It was an easy assumption to make, especially since everyone knew Dumbledore posed the biggest threat to Voldemort. He had, after all, defeated the likes of Grindelwald.

What bothered Snape the most was that, as Dumbledore likely knew he had knowledge of his activities, and as he knew he was adept at Defence Against the Dark Arts, he hadn't invited him to join his secret group. Why wasn't Dumbledore using his immense magical talents? Why did he trust him with the training of his own niece, but not trust in him enough to ask him to join his ranks…to join the fight against the Dark Lord?

_Your assumption that I'll stay quiet and not take my information and talents elsewhere may be a dangerous one, Dumbledore…_

Snape angrily scowled at the ground, frustration welling in his gut.

Suddenly, the sound of tapping heels echoed within the Great Hall, the delicate noise reverberating off of the stone walls and making the four house hourglasses chime subtly. Snape looked up and saw Aurora—dressed in a form-fitting blue outfit—approaching the Dining Hall with a prattling little elf at her side, her smiling eyes tinged with fatigue. Her russet hair fell around her shoulders in loose waves, more untamed than he had ever seen it, and dark circles formed beneath her striking sapphire eyes. His anger instantly dissipated and was replaced by an emotion so foreign to him that he couldn't describe it even if he tried…

_"It's hard to believe someone as miserly as you did such a gallant thing only a few hours ago…I bet now you wish you'd never saved me…"_

His throat became unexpectedly dry as she neared him, memories of her distraught voice pervading his thoughts. He had never felt guilty in his entire life, but now…laying eyes upon her the morning after their quarrel and thinking on all of the cruel things he had said to her—things which he would've _never_ felt ashamed saying to anyone else—made him feel undeniably so.

_What's wrong with me…?_

* * *

"You take care of the owls, _too_?" Lily stressed in mock-fascination, trying to seem impressed as she entered the Great Hall and headed in the direction of the Dining Hall, "My goodness, Mimi! It sounds to me like you are the hardest working house-elf at Hogwarts!"

Big crocodile tears formed in the corners of Mimi's bulbous eyes as she began to fitfully tremble, overjoyed by Lily's compliments: "M-M-M-Miss Aurora i-i-is too kind to Mimi!"

"Oh my, I didn't mean to make you cry!" Lily insisted kindly, bending down to hastily pat the little elf on the back, "Please, won't you stop? I didn't mean to offend—?"

"M-M-Mimi is crying tears of happiness, Miss Aurora!" Mimi interrupted in a high-pitched squeak, dabbing her eyes with the shoulders of the dish towel she wore, "Mimi has _never_ received such compliments b-b-before. Mimi—"

The house-elf stopped mid-sentence and looked over Lily's shoulder, her wet eyes mysteriously changing from surprised to nervous. Lily watched her uncertainly, wondering if the little creature's brain had become addled from all of her crying; then, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, abruptly turned to come face-to-face with Severus Snape.

"M-M-Mimi should go attend to her ch-chores. Have a g-good morning, Miss Aurora." Mimi said skittishly as she disapparated.

Lily did not twirl around to bid her adieu, for she could not take her eyes off of Snape. Her body remained perfectly statuesque as she glared into his sallow face, waiting for him to open his mouth and spit an insult her way. Though he did not speak straight away, instead taking a moment to decipher the look on her face—an act which made her feel strangely awkward—she matched his stare with iron-clad resolve, all the while cursing his name in her head.

"Have I…_interrupted_ something?" Snape finally questioned in his usual deep-seated voice, a glimmer of amusement reflecting in his cryptic eyes.

"Yes actually, you have." Lily returned tenaciously, her tone deprecating; Snape could tell she was wholly unimpressed by his manifestation, "The very sight of you has frightened off my friend, apparently. I can hardly blame her for retreating."

Snape narrowed his eyes, the guilt he had previously felt beginning to dissolve due to her rebellious reply, "_Friend_? Wizards don't make _friends_ with house-elves, Aurora. They are our _servants_."

Lily didn't know what alarmed her more: Snape using her first 'name', or him speaking in such a prejudicial way. His arrogance concerning Mimi infuriated her.

"I'd choose befriending a house-elf over _you_ any day." Lily spat indignantly, her temper flaring, "Where did you come from, anyway? Were you lurking behind statues, waiting to pounce on me as soon as I walked by?"

"_Don't flatter yourself_." he growled menacingly, reacting to Lily's taunts just as she had expected him to. She was prepared for Snape to immediately volley another insult her way, but, strangely, he did not. Instead, the young wizard's facial features settled and his usually emotionless eyes clouded with a mixture of disappointment and frustration—uncharacteristic sentiments she did not understand, "I didn't approach you to pick a fight with you. I came to tell you that I'll be waiting here for you after you finish your breakfast. We're going start your lessons immediately, continuing where we left off yesterday."

Lily stiffened, startled by his cool demeanour. She suddenly felt idiotic for acting so insolently, convinced that Snape was remaining composed _just_ to make her feel so.

"Why can't I just meet you in the library?" Lily countered stubbornly, her blue eyes flashing as she folded her arms.

"We won't be practicing in the library." Snape replied shortly, struggling to remain dispassionate while in the company of the obstinate girl.

"Why not?"

"I've found a better location where we can practice."

"Well I don't see why we can't just go back to the library to—"

"_Because I can't afford you accidentally burning it down again_, _alright_?" Snape retorted in reactionary sarcasm, his eyes burning as his annoyance took control of his tongue.

"…Fine. See you later." Lily dismissed him coolly, hiding her satisfied smirk by swiftly turning away from the vexed professor and entering the Dining Hall, where Dumbledore and Frank expectantly awaited her. Her hips swayed alluringly as she gracefully sauntered away, leaving Snape staring after her, vanquished.

* * *

"Well, well, well…look who has _finally_ decided to grace us with her presence." the playfully sarcastic voice of Lord Frank Longbottom sounded from across the Dining Hall, making Lily suppress a blush as she timorously approached the head table.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Lord Dumbledore." Lily apologized as she arrived at the table, her tone reticent as she ignored Frank's jib. Frank and Dumbledore immediately arose from their seats, the gentlemen lowering back into them as soon as Lily took a seat beside Frank and opposite Dumbledore, "I was up late last night reading for my lessons today and I lost track of the time."

"Not to worry, dear girl. It was my own fault for not providing you with fair warning." Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, waving his withered hand casually and causing the china tea pot before Lily to independently pour her a cup of tea, "I must say though, I am simply famished! Shall we?"

On cue, the empty golden dishes before the three table occupants magically filled with every breakfast food imaginable. There was a basket of freshly baked breads (bagels, croissants, English muffins, bread rolls, etc.), bacon, sausage, ham, pancakes, waffles, French toast, hash browns, cheese, fruit and, lastly, eggs prepared in every conceivable way known to wizard. Lily's eyes grew wide and her nostrils flared as the aroma drifting from the delicious-looking food settled in her nose.

"So tell me, Aurora, how was your first lesson yesterday?" Dumbledore inquired amiably as he and Frank began siphoning food onto their expensive plates.

_Dumbledore is calling me 'Aurora' even in private? I suppose he and Frank are trying to get into the habit…_

Lily took a nervous sip from her crested-goblet, which had magically filled with some sort of citrus juice, before continuing, unsure of how honest she should be: "Um…I suppose it went O.K."

"Only O.K.?" Dumbledore echoed kindly, trying to coax the truth from her, "Did you learn theory work, or did you practice some spell work?"

"A bit of both, actually. It was going well until I…_er_…almost burned down the library…"

Frank sardonically snorted in his eggs, causing Lily to turn and glower at him, while Dumbledore merrily chuckled; Lily thought he sounded more like an amused grandfather than patronizing, "However did you manage that?"

"Well, I was instructed to produce a jet of water from my wand, but I wasn't told how to do it. I'd quickly scanned a page of my textbook before we began, and I was able to recall how to do the spells I was previously asked to perform, so I figured I'd take a guess…but I ended up producing some sort of enchanted fire charm students apparently aren't supposed to use." Lily explained quickly, suddenly becoming enthusiastic about the subject of conversation.

Dumbledore watched her in intrigue as she finally conjured the confidence to begin collecting food onto her plate, his blue eyes inquisitive, "You mean to say that the spells you performed you did so by merely glancing at your textbook? Professor Snape did not teach you how to execute them?"

At the mention of Severus Snape, Frank began choking on the pancake he had previously heaped into his mouth. Lily raised a curious eyebrow as he inelegantly coughed and looked to Dumbledore in disbelief, "You're having _Snape_ tutor her?"

"You know him?" Lily asked before Dumbledore could answer, curious of Frank's physical reaction to the news.

"I went to school with that prat." Frank returned bitterly, causing Dumbledore to frown behind his white beard, "He was in my year…a _Slytherin_."

_A what?_

"I would like to remind you, Lord Longbottom, that Severus is also a professor here at Hogwarts." Dumbledore said evenly, his voice business-like as he expectantly scrutinized Frank from behind his peculiar glasses, "And as I'm sure you recall, Severus graduated top of your year, also overcoming you in your best subject."

Frank grimaced, as if the knowledge were a thorn in his side. Lily looked between the two wizards, brimming with intrigue, "What was your best subject?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts." Frank muttered sullenly before turning his attention back to Dumbledore, "Qualified or not, can we really trust him to teach Aurora? He's probably the _last_ person on the planet I'd trust with her. Seems like the perfect candidate for a death eater, if you ask me—"

"No one did ask you, Frank." Dumbledore replied curtly, taking a sip of his tea.

Never having heard Dumbledore sound so severe (and by normal standards, he didn't even _really _sound that severe), Lily turned to look at Frank, who appeared to have realized he had crossed a line. Lily imagined that, though Frank factored into her protection, it was Dumbledore who was masterminding the plan and therefore calling the shots.

"Lord Dumbledore…I did not mean to question—"

"Professor Snape is an excellent teacher and has thorough knowledge of every subject important to Aurora's education. As he lives at Hogwarts during the summers, he is a perfect tutoring candidate. Unfortunately, I do not have the time to teach Aurora myself; therefore Severus will be administering her education on my behalf." Dumbledore fluidly interrupted, his manner of speaking confident and to the point, "I do not care what grudges you hold against Professor Snape from your school days, Frank. You will not insult me again by questioning my judgement or insinuating that I would hire a death eater to teach the students of this institution. Are we understood?"

"Yes…I got carried away. I apologize." Frank responded obediently, subdued by Dumbledore's quietly commanding personality. Lily shifted in her chair uncomfortably.

"I understand you only have Aurora's best interests at heart, but I assure you, I do as well." Dumbledore spoke tranquilly, diffusing some of the tension. As he focused on Lily again, a smile returned to his aged face, "You were saying, my dear?"

"Oh…um…well no, Professor Snape didn't teach me the spells or tell me which incantations to use. I'm under the impression that you did not inform him of my skill level, because he was testing me to ascertain it for himself. I didn't know whether I was supposed to tell him that I'd never performed magic…I wasn't sure whether or not the truth would have conflicted with something you had told him previously, so before he tested me I took a quick look at my textbook and attempted the spells anyway. Luckily, I was able to successfully perform the first couple spells, but after my blunder with the enchanted fire, he wasn't too impressed."

Dumbledore's thin lips parted into an enchanting smile as he listened to Lily's explanation: "How remarkable it is that you were able to cast your first spells without instruction. You should feel very proud, indeed." Lily smiled shyly, secretly thrilled to finally receive some praise, "So thoughtless of me not to inform Professor Snape of the fact that you have never performed magic before. It seems I have been so enraptured in other matters concerning your living arrangements I have forgotten to do many other important things."

"So…so you're going to tell Professor Snape that I'm new to magic?" Lily inquired, her eyes betraying her relief, "I was up all night memorizing my Charms textbook in case he tested me again today…"

"Yes, dear Aurora. I will explain to him that—as it was your ill mother's wish that you abstain from using magic and instead care for her—you know virtually nothing. I will remind Professor Snape that you didn't even own a wand until a few days ago." Dumbledore spoke soothingly, his wonderful eyes shining, "I do, however, expect you to work very hard at your studies. I want you to progress as far as you possibly can by the end of the summer. As it is mid-July, you will only have a month and a half."

"A month and a half until what?" Lily echoed curiously, side-glancing Frank who—to her dismay—looked equally as ignorant.

"You will find out eventually." Dumbledore winked mysteriously, pausing for a moment to tuck into his cooling food before he continued. When Lily gave Frank a questioning look, he merely shrugged: "Now, I have asked you and Frank to join me for breakfast this morning to discuss a very important matter."

"An important matter?" Frank spoke for the first time after being scolded; Lily merely set her fork down, suddenly feeling anxious.

"Yes…it concerns the upcoming Hogwarts Gala in August." Dumbledore began with a twinkle in his eye.

Frank furrowed his brow, as if predicting what Dumbledore was about to say, while Lily tightened her eyes in thought, "If I recall correctly, Narcissa Black asked me if I was attending the Hogwarts Gala when I met her in the clothier…"

"Ah yes, I heard you had a run in with Lady Black." Dumbledore commented idly, "It is for that very reason that I have decided you will attend the Gala on the arm of Lord Longbottom."

Lily's blue eyes widened fretfully, "M-Me? Attend a gala?"

"But Lord Dumbledore, the Gala is only a month away? How will Aurora be…well…_ready_ to face the magical nobility by then?" Frank asked uneasily, attempting to object as politely as possible, "Having sufficient magical knowledge to carry out a conversation would be precarious alone, nevermind learning proper etiquette and the various dances?"

"Aurora will learn all the intricacies alongside her magical training." Dumbledore replied to Frank assuredly, turning to Lily with a heartening smile, "Now that Lady Black is aware of you, word of your arrival has surely begun to spread among the young ladies and gentleman of high society. This reality, coupled with the necessary trips you and Frank will often have to make to Hogsmeade for supplies, means that you must make an appearance at the Gala for decorum's sake, specifically with Frank. People will talk if you are absent, and we must use the event to confirm your courtship."

"_Courtship_?" Lily whispered hoarsely, attempting to disguise the sudden stab of pain that resonated in her chest. It was as if the scab growing over her heart had been seared with a hot poker, for her old wound had begun to bleed fresh blood: "W-Why must we court?"

"For appearance's sake. As Frank will be instrumental in getting you accustomed to the magical world, and will therefore often be by your side—as he was in Hogsmeade—it is imperative we provide a plausible reason for his attachment to you." Dumbledore explained softly, the logic behind his plan irrefutable, "You've already been spotted together in Hogsmeade by the shop-keepers, and they will surely talk as well. Though some may believe the two of you only share a friendship, many will suspect there is something more going on between you. If you deny a courtship, some will gossip your relationship is inappropriate—rumours which may damage both of your reputations."

"Oh…well, if it's necessary?" Lily questioned uneasily, neurotically playing with a strand of her hair as she finally mustered the courage to make eye contact with Frank; he offered her a weak smile.

"Lord Dumbledore is right, it _is_ necessary. If you debuted in high society without me, there would be a small mob of noble wizards interested in courting you—especially due to your relation to Dumbledore." Frank explained reasonably, attempting to sound as professional as possible to lessen the awkwardness, "We can't have you fervently pursued right from the start, for any…_intimate _conversations with possible suitors might give you away. You need more time to adjust to the magical world before you get involved with any of…_that_."

"I get the point. Can we stop talking about this now?" Lily pleaded uncomfortably, Frank beginning to sound like a parent giving their child the torturous "birds and the bees" lecture. Dumbledore chuckled, his cheeks rosy with amusement.

* * *

Lily couldn't help but feel glad when breakfast concluded, feeling increasingly anxious and uncomfortable with Dumbledore's explanation of the nature of galas and the amount of work she would be required to do in order to prepare for the event. She mostly kept her gaze away from Frank, unable to look at him without blushing—the thought of pretending to court him making her feel inexplicably panicky—and merely nodded her head whenever Dumbledore engaged her in conversation. Like the last time she had dined with Lord Dumbledore, Lily had completely lost her appetite.

"Your dance teacher will be arriving by train this afternoon. You'll have to start lessons with her immediately, of course." Dumbledore said lightly, idly brushing some crumbs off of his white beard, "Have you danced before, Aurora?"

"Er…no, not really." Lily responded clumsily, pushing the food on her plate around with her gold-plated fork; she didn't imagine dancing in an Irish bar counted, "At least I've never taken dance lessons before."

"Can't say I envy you." Frank smirked, watching the girl squirm in her seat in secret entertainment.

"Of course, you'll be joining her, Frank." Dumbledore added with a small smile, pleased when the arrogant grin on Frank's face disappeared, instead replaced by a look of utter horror; Lily grinned, comforted by the fact that she would not have to suffer alone.

"_What?_ Why do I have to?" Frank questioned hastily, his eyebrows wrinkling in confusion and his voice becoming desperate, "I know how to dance already. I've been to _plenty_ of galas!"

"Aurora will need a dance partner to practice with. As you will be the one dancing with her at the Gala, it only makes sense that you practice together so your performance is impeccable. All eyes will be on the two of you, after all." Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes shining with mirth as he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin and arose from the table, "Now, I want to have a little chat with Professor Snape before Aurora resumes her lessons. If the two of you could remain here for a moment, I should only be a few minutes. Am I right to assume Professor Snape is awaiting you outside of the Dining Hall, Aurora?"

_How did he know that?_

"Yes, he should be there." Lily confirmed, growing sullen at the thought of having to meet up with him soon.

"Excellent. Thank you for joining me for breakfast, Frank, Aurora." Dumbledore smiled warmly, his blue eyes practically translucent as the morning's sunlight illumed them, "We shall breakfast again tomorrow morning, Aurora. I'd like to tell you more about our family. Until then."

_Our family…_

Lily agreed silently and watched Dumbledore elegantly depart for the double doors providing entrance to the Dining Hall, his beautiful turquoise robs dragging along the floor behind him like the train of a bridal gown. Once Dumbledore disappeared, Lily suddenly became aware that she had been left alone with Frank, her _pretend boyfriend_, and side-glanced him subconsciously. He seemed to read her mind.

"Try not to worry about the Gala. Between your lessons and my guidance, I'm sure you'll be more than ready to make your debut in high society." Frank spoke assuredly, turning in his chair toward Lily and placing a cheering hand on her lap, "I'll be at your side throughout most of the evening, so I can help you answer any questions thrown your way. It may not be to your liking, but Dumbledore's plan to have us act as couple is an ingenious one, and crucial to your protection."

"Well surely it isn't to your liking either?" Lily questioned defensively, insecurity crystalizing in her light eyes, "There's probably a laundry list of society girls who'd you like to court and Dumbledore just saddled you with babysitting me."

"Yes, I'm quite hard-done by." Frank sarcastically remarked, earning an eye-roll from Lily, "And there isn't a laundry-list of society girls who _I_ would like to date, but a list of girls who would like to date _me_. You should feel _quite_ bad for depriving them of my potential affection."

"Oh shut up, would you?" Lily demanded in amused exasperation, knocking Frank in the shoulder as his humour began to settle her nerves, "But really though, how are we going to feign affection for one another convincingly? I may have adequately played my part thus far, but that little piece of acting is going to be _extraordinarily_ difficult…"

"_Oh, please!_ You're clearly already _wildly_ attracted to me; it shouldn't be _that_ difficult for you! Now I, on the other hand, will have an _exceedingly_ hard time pretending to love the likes of _you_." Frank joked, grinning from ear to ear as he rose from his seat and pulled a mock-offended Lily to her feet by gently seizing her arm, "I prefer blondes, you see."

"Arsehole."

"_Language_!"

Frank escorted Lily to the exiting doors of the Dining Hall—which were slightly ajar—and peeked outside to see if Dumbledore was still speaking to Snape. Catching a glimpse of the dark-haired wizard, he grimaced and indicated that they should wait a bit longer.

"What is it you have against Professor Snape, Frank? It seems Dumbledore thinks highly of him, but you expressed at breakfast that you clearly do not share in that sentiment." Lily quietly questioned, careful to hide how curious she really was.

"Dumbledore is confident in him. My opinions shouldn't matter." Frank brushed off the inquiry indifferently.

"_Please_, Frank?"

"No…Dumbledore wouldn't approve."

"_Come on_, Frank! I won't tell Dumbledore; I promise." Lily whispered persistently, flashing Frank an angelic pout which reluctantly persuaded him to indulge him.

"_Fine_, but keep that cute little mouth of yours shut or I'll get in trouble like I did at breakfast." Frank frowned down at the girl, inwardly lecturing himself for giving in so easily, "Snape and I were in the same year here, at Hogwarts. Though only the children of noblemen are accepted to Hogwarts, Snape was accepted because of his magical talents. I suppose they impressed Dumbledore enough for him to offer Snape a scholarship, even though he's just a commoner."

Lily frowned, unimpressed by the superior way in which Frank regarded Snape—as _just a commoner_.

"Anyways, I had classes with him and the likes. He was always very quiet, kept his long nose stuck between the pages of the books he worshiped like idols. A complete teacher's pet, in my opinion. He was never concerned with making friends or playing Quidditch—though I imagine he'd be bloody awful at it…he doesn't really strike me as an athlete." Frank snorted to himself, a smirk creeping onto his lips, "But you've met him. He's a sour individual—don't think I've ever seen a smile cross his face before. Between his nasty disposition and brown-nosing tendencies, nobody ever liked him."

"Did he ever do anything to you?" Lily persisted, wondering when a legitimate reason for Frank's dislike of Snape would emerge, "Did he say or do something to you?"

"No…but the Marauders didn't like him, so naturally most of the school didn't eiter. He got into a couple different duels with them…got strung up by his heels midair once, as I recall…"

"_Maraud—?_"

"Enough for now, Aurora. Dumbledore's left…let's go." Frank interrupted Lily's query, pushing open one of the double doors and signalling Lily to follow him, "We'll chat more about this later, O.K.?"

* * *

Snape stood motionless in the wake of Dumbledore, his arms crossed and his face creased in absolute bewilderment. He was struggling to register the conversation that had just taken place between himself and the headmaster; a conversation which had revealed that Dumbledore's niece, Aurora Rockford—the very same girl who had produced enchanted fire the night before—had never even owned a wand before, nevermind performed magic.

"We'll chat more about this later, O.K.?"

The sound of Frank Longbottom's voice caused Snape's attention to abruptly switch to the two figures approaching him. He immediately neutralized his facial features, hiding any indication of emotion, and instead adopted a dispassionate façade. As Aurora and Lord Longbottom approached, their arms comfortably entwined, a strange pang of undisclosed emotion—which was decidedly negative—fermented in his gut.

Once close enough, Snape made eye-contact with Aurora, who appeared torn between her partner's conversation and her own thoughts, then Longbottom, who regarded him with the same disdainful superiority complex he had possessed during their school days.

_Wonder if he's already bored her with tales of his useless bourgeois existence._

"Snape." Frank arrogantly acknowledged him when he and Aurora had reached him.

"Longbottom." Snape emotionlessly drawled in response, his keen black eyes unwavering as he purposely refrained from respectfully referring to him by his title.

He watched as Frank pretentiously turned away from him—as if he no longer existed—and handsomely bowed toward Aurora, taking her hand and kissing the top of it. He stifled a triumphant laugh when a surprised—if not slightly annoyed—look crossed her face in response to the lord's actions; however, his amusement vanished when she seemed to realize her incorrect reaction and suddenly broke into a lovely smile, "I'll see you later tonight, Frank?"

"Of course…I look forward to it, my lady." Frank grinned charmingly, the two appearing to be sharing in a private joke, "I hope you have an agreeable afternoon."

Frank shot Snape a meaningful glare as he pompously stalked off, obviously unimpressed that he was leaving Aurora in his company. Though the pageantry of their exchange made him want to vomit, Snape was secretly thrilled to be the reason for his displeasure.

"So, are we going to stand in the middle of the Great Hall all day, or will we be getting on with the lesson at some point?"

Snape's intense gaze shifted from the disappearing Lord back to the beautiful face of his new student, who suddenly captivated him even more than she had before. He quietly observed her, the gears in his mind furiously churning, before he decided what he was going to do: He had a new hypothesis he was _very_ interested in testing…

"Do you have your wand with you?" Snape inquired after a moment's pause.

"Yes, of course? Why?" she replied, clearly perplexed by his behaviour.

"Excellent. Follow me."

* * *

Lily clutched her chest as she followed Professor Snape up two flights of stairs to the third floor of the castle. As per usual, the bat-like wizard travelled at competitive speeds, effortlessly bounding up stairs and cutting corners like his robes were on fire. Nearly tripping twice, Lily exhaled in relief—her lungs ready to explode—when Snape finally entered a classroom unknown to her.

Located down a musty corridor which slyly twisted away from the moving staircases, classroom 3C was quite the sight to behold. Tentatively following Snape inside, Lily was immediately struck by the bright room's odd features. Hanging from the high ceiling was an enormous skeleton of a horned beast—what she assumed to be a _dragon_—and lining the walls were jars of what appeared to be pickled, _shrunken_ heads. Mundane compared to the bones of a winged dinosaur, the room was also filled with writing desks, candlesticks, a sooty blackboard and an eccentric mirrored-wardrobe which, to her, seemed out of place.

Lily quizzically stared up at the dragon skeleton for a long while before Snape finally broke the room's silence, "It's a Peruvian Vipertooth." Her softened gaze returned to her mysterious tutor, who was patiently observing her silent fascination with folded arms, "A dragon?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

She expected such a response from the fork-tongued wizard, but rather than uttering the statement in his usual condescending and denigrating tone, he framed the question in an uncertain—if not curious—manner. Lily paused to take stock of his unfamiliar demeanour, tempted to offer a genuine response to ascertain whether or not she had mistaken his character: "I've…well, I've never seen one before. I thought they were a myth."

Snape's eyes narrowed under his black eyebrows, betraying his scepticism, "A _myth_? Have you never read about them before? Did your mother or father never teach you of them?"

Lily bit her lip, wondering how much of her false cover-story she should or could convey to Snape. He seemed like an incredibly astute individual; a professor particularly talented at sniffing out liars. How believable she could be, she did not yet know…

"My father died when I was young, and my mother has been ill all her life. I suppose she never possessed the right mind to discuss magical creatures or anything of the kind with me." Lily managed in a solemn voice, averting her eyes from Snape and instead unsheathing her wand, pretending to study the design on it.

She waited for Snape to inquire further into her family dynamic—questions she would likely have to deflect—but he did not, instead abruptly adopting a scholarly, authoritative tone: "Alright then. I'm going to test you again: Wand at the ready."

_I thought Dumbledore was going to tell him that I was new to magic…?_

"What? Didn't Dumbledore explain—?" Lily began incredulously, her eyes betraying her utter bewilderment as Snape flicked his wand and caused all the desks in the room to independently slide into place along the walls, thus creating an open area in the middle.

"_I_ _said_, wand at the ready." Snape compellingly commanded again in his bottomless voice, expectantly staring at Lily, "It'll be the same procedure as yesterday. Ready?"

Though she was undeniably confused, Lily obediently brandished her wand—pointing it at Snape, who faced her—and nodded her head, determination etching across her pale brow, "I'm ready."

"Right. First, I want you to make one of the desks hover above the ground for more than five seconds." Snape started firmly, repeating one of the commands he had issued the day before.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_." Lily immediately recanted, meticulously moving her wand and precisely pronouncing the incantation as she zeroed in on the first desk she laid eyes upon. As the desk successfully dismounted from the stone floor, she recalled a description she had read in her textbook and flicked her wand upwards to make the desk float higher and higher, gently setting it back down when she felt satisfied with the height.

"Next, cast a softening charm on the floor. Once you have, drop one of the desks on the floor from a great height to test if the charm worked." Snape continued evenly, giving no hint of congratulation as his eyes remained fixed on the girl.

Lily took a deep breath and pointed her wand at the floor, careful to control her emotions and therefore the powerfulness of the spell by concentrating on the its intended effect: "_Spongify_."

Lily could already feel the spell working, for the ground under her feet suddenly felt buoyant—as if she were standing atop a trampoline. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Snape's gaze drop to the floor as well, assuring her that he too felt the stone's newfound flexibility. Lily carefully executed the hover charm on one of the desks again, lifting the desk to the ceiling before breaking the charm and sending it crashing toward the ground. Instead of splintering into a dozen pieces, the wooden desk soundlessly bounced off the floor and skidded across it like a stone skipping across water.

Hiding her triumph, Lily wordlessly looked to Snape for her next instruction. She was intrigued to see his previously indifferent face crumpled in doubt; however, he regarded her in indecision only a moment longer before he issued his next order. He bent down and fished a green-bound book from his shoulder bag—the very same potions text he had been reading in the library yesterday—and nonchalantly threw it across the room toward the door, putting in jeopardy its ragged binding: "I want you to summon that book."

_Why did he jump from a first year spell to a fourth year spell…?_

Lily gazed at the tattered book across the room and paused, thinking on the correct spell to use. She knew the incantation and wand movement, but hesitated before performing it, remembering a paragraph emphasized in her textbook: _Be very specific when summoning an object, for the broader the phrasing, the likelier the possibility that more than one object will come barrelling toward the caster…_

Lily looked away from the book and scanned the rest of the room, quickly realizing that it was positively teeming with books, big and small. _He's trying to trick me. If I merely refer to it as a 'book', I'll probably be buried under a mountain of them…_

She looked to Snape again, noticing he had drawn his wand; he was likely anticipating her mistake and preparing to save her from it. _Sneaky bastard_.

"What's your textbook called?" Lily requested challengingly, the fire in her eyes alerting Snape to her displeasure with his slippery test and his expectation that she would fail.

"Advanced Potion-Making." Snape responded lightly, adamantly watching her as he goaded her into continuing, "Are you stalling because you don't remember the incantation, or because you can't perform the spell?"

Lily defiantly shifted her gaze away from him and to the lonely book. Convincingly, she commanded: "_Accio Advanced Potion-Making_!"

Though the speed at which the book travelled took her by surprise, Lily efficaciously managed to catch Snape's zooming potions text in her left hand. Thrilled with her success thus far, she was unable to hide a grin from her tutor. _Thank God I was able to get as far as fourth year last night…_

The grin left Lily's face, however, as Snape tersely summoned the book straight out of her hand and threw it back into his bag. Looking almost angry, he took a couple steps toward Lily—making her instinctually want to take a few steps backwards—and insistently made his last demand: "I want you to disarm me."

_Disarm him?_

Lily looked back at him disbelievingly, secretly wracking her brain in an attempt to remember a charm that could achieve such a feat. The pages she had read last night flashed in her mind like moving pictures, housing precious explanations of spells and charms, but nothing usable came to mind.

"I don't know how to disarm you." Lily declared pointedly, irritated that she had to admit defeat. Rather than pleasing Snape, he appeared more cross than before.

"You '_don't know'_? You know how to summon an object, but you don't know how to disarm an opponent?" Snape claimed cynically, restlessly gripping his wand to his side, "I want to see you do it."

"_I just told you_, I don't kn—"

"Quickly slash you wand from right to left, the finishing point aimed at me, and pronounce '_Expelliarmus_'." Snape interrupted brusquely, maniacally resolute as he swiftly modeled the wand movement, "_Go on_, do it!"

Lily gulped nervously, her hand sweaty as she did as her tutor instructed her: "_Expelliarmus_…"

Other than the small scarlet spark that weakly discharged from her wand and immediately plummeted to the ground with a weak **sizzle**, nothing happened.

"_Be firm_. Think about what you are saying; what you want the spell to do. _Again_."

"_Expelliarmus_!" Lily attempted again with more gusto, rapidly reproducing the wand movement Snape demonstrated; again, with no luck.

"_Pathetic_. Afraid to raise your voice, little Dumbledore? Say it LOUDER!" Snape ordered harshly, his eyes flashing dangerously as he took an intimidating step closer to her; she flinched apprehensively, her instincts flaring.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

"_Why_ can't you seem to enunciate the spell correctly? Are you deaf?_ Eks-PEL-ee-AR-mes!_" Snape obscenely instructed, his every feature aggressive, "One more chance. _Again_!"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Lily yelped almost helplessly, her voice cracking as Snape's tone and manner began to physically scare her. With her final failure, he rapidly began to approach her, his black eyes frenzied with frustration. She gasped, her spine prickling with alarm as he stormed towards her…

"ARE YOU SO INCOMPETENT THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN—?"

"_EXPELLIARMUS_!" Lily screamed powerfully, bellicosely slicing her wand through the air and shooting a jet of dark red light—the colour of bloody rubies—rocketing toward her attacker.

Breath seemed to vacate from her lungs as the spell thumped Snape squarely in the chest, sending his rigid wand spiralling into the air like a children's wind-spinner and knocking him off of his feet and into the neatly arranged desks behind him. The sound of his body connecting with the hard wooden bureaus made Lily gasp; she remained frozen in her spot, wand still drawn, until she heard his groans echo from the mass of debris, "_Oh my God_…Severus, are you alright?"

As Snape attempted to amble out of the wreckage, Lily impulsively rushed forward and grabbed his forearm—forgetting his previous demeanour—and helped him to his feet. Though he appeared irritated by the thought of her help, he accepted her arm and let her drag him to the middle of the room, his face rumpled in pain as he massaged the back of his neck with his free hand.

"I…I'm sorry, I didn't know that spell was…well…I didn't know it was going to do that." Lily finally managed, though as Snape straightened up and set his black eyes upon her again, her remorse slowly turned to anger, "But you deserved what came to you."

"I deserved being sent flying into a pile of desks?" Snape questioned aloud, an amused grin twisting his mouth.

Lily nearly flinched, the sight of Severus Snape smiling—a smile which lacked its usual sardonic disdain—one she had never beheld before. Certain his grin was the product of a head trauma, she continued her fuming tirade, "_What makes you think you can treat people the way you just treated me? Coming at me like some rabid animal! You can't talk to people like that! Your behaviour just now was absolutely DISGUSTING! The way you just spoke to me was both condescending and frightening, and I cannot believe someone like you teaches children_!"

She glared at Snape so intensely and with such disparagement that he felt like sinking into the floor and disappearing, her scorching eyes like pinpricks: "I was testing you. I wanted to see how well you worked under pressure."

Lily blinked, unbelieving, "_What_?"

"_Expelliarmus_ is a third year Defense spell, and it isn't that easy to pick up for beginners. By intimidating you, I put pressure on you to make the spell work…and, obviously, _you_ _did_." Snape responded calmly, summoning a car over to him and sitting down to ease his back pain, "Do I use such methods to teach students during the school year? _No_. But as I understand it, with you there is little time to waste."

Lily swallowed hard, matching Snape's calm gaze with a mixture of knowledge _and_ uncertainty, "So if I am to understand you correctly, you _scared me_ into properly performing the spell?"

"In essence, yes."

"It…it was all just a test…?" Lily trailed off, looking away from Snape as her eyes glazed over. _He just taught me a Defence Against the Dark Arts spell…I didn't know the spell because I'd only read the Charms textbook…_

"I'd like you to sit down. We have some matters to discuss." Snape instructed Lily mysteriously, recapturing her attention. She docilely sunk into the chair he magicked over to her and regarded him quietly, unable to predict what was on his mind. What he said first immediately took her off guard.

"Aurora…why have you not told your uncle that you've performed magic before?" Snape inquired softly, his voice—_almost_ sounding concerned—sullied with subdued fascination, "He's instructed me to teach you starting with the basics, convinced you've never executed a spell before, but it is clear to me you have. I need you to tell me what level you're at."

Surprised by Snape's incorrect assumptions—if not a little flattered—Lily delivered her answer as frankly as she could, "Professor Snape…I'm afraid everything my uncle has told you is correct. Up until my lesson with you yesterday, I'd never performed a spell before. I didn't even own a wand until a few days ago."

Lily saw the irritation growing on Snape's face; he looked wholly unconvinced by her statement, "I don't know why you're hiding it from your uncle, and I don't need to know why, but I _cannot_ accept that explanation. You just performed a third year Defense spell and a fourth year charm. Someone who has never performed magic could not successfully execute such spells."

"Well apparently it is possible, because I just did." Lily insisted, her voice tinged with annoyance, "Whether it be luck or talent, I successfully performed those spells yesterday because I got a quick look at the Charms textbook before you instructed me to begin. I wasn't able to perform the water charm because it wasn't on the page I scanned, so I took a guess and accidentally set that table on fire. I was only able to perform the water charm after you demonstrated it to me."

The mystification on Snape's face was so pronounced that Lily felt like laughing, "What about the charms you performed today? One of them was a fourth year charm…and I don't see how it's possible that you could remember those charms by _fleetingly_ glancing your textbook!"

Lily chuckled, causing the crease on Snape's forehead to deepen, "You made me feel like such a fool yesterday that I stayed up all night reading _The Standard Book of Spells_. Luckily, I made it to the fourth year section and remembered the summoning charm. As I only read that textbook, you can see why I hadn't a clue how to disarm you."

Snape suddenly flew out of his chair and walked across the room, his bewilderment making him agitated. After a moment's contemplation, he strode back across the room and regarded Lily suspiciously, "You're telling me that you read _more than half_ of _The Standard Book of Spells_ last night? You do realize that's nearly eight hundred pages of reading."

"I think it was something like eight hundred and seventy-four, actually." Lily responded automatically, accidentally frustrating him more, "I know it doesn't seem plausible, but I have an eidetic memory—meaning I can recall images and objects with exceptional precision in the short term. I suppose this also plays into my ability to speed read…I can read almost a thousand words per minute while still comprehending their meaning."

_Wow, that's the first time I've ever told anyone that…_

Snape looked stupefied. Though he did not voice his connection, he'd only heard of one other wizard with such abilities: Lord Emmett Everard, former headmaster at Hogwarts.

"Even if what you say is true, without proper instruction…I don't understand how you could have so easily…how you could have successfully performed the spells you have on your first try." Snape virtually whispered, suddenly regarding Lily as if she were a bizarre phenomenon; she fidgeted in her seat fretfully.

_Even as a wizard I'm apparently a freak…_

"Well…you saw how many tries it took me to finally disarm you." Lily offered weakly, unsure of what to say.

Snape grinned in disbelief, shaking his head at the girl as if she were ridiculous, "You really are new to magic, aren't you? I told you before that spell isn't easy for beginners to pick up—yet you did it in a matter of minutes, and with very crude instruction."

"How long does it usually take students to learn?" Lily breathed uncertainly, nervous to hear the answer.

"Days…even _weeks_ for the dimmer students." Snape revealed, linking his hands and leaning forward in his chair—as if he were about to whisper a secret to her, "It appears I've underestimated you, Aurora. Perhaps it is your age, but it seems you have natural aptitude for magic."

_Did Snape just compliment me? How unusual…_

"Er…maybe I just have a very good wand." Lily returned stupidly, unprepared to accept accolade from the man who had previously belittled her and almost driven her to tears.

"The wizard makes the wand, not the other way." Snape countered profoundly, his gaze steadfast.

"I'll have to remember that…" Lily muttered awkwardly, uneasy about the obvious manner in which her tutor was now scrutinizing her. She knew she must have confused him—upset his previous assumptions about her—and now he seemed determined to truly figure her out.

_If anyone could figure out my true identity, it would be him…_

Her prayers for reprieve from Snape's perceptive stare were answered when a light knock sounded on the classroom door and Lord Frank Longbottom popped his aristocratic blonde head in, "Sorry for the interruption Aurora, but the dance teacher has just arrived and she wants us to start before lunch."

Lily looked between Frank and Snape; neither wizard acknowledged the other, both childishly discounting the other's existence. She gracefully arose from her seat and turned to say goodbye to Snape, who appeared visibly annoyed by both Frank's presence and the interruption of his embarrassing contemplation of her, "I'd appreciate it if you kept what I've told you today to yourself, Professor Snape."

"Fine." he muttered coolly, frowning.

"Thank you." Lily whispered genuinely, turning her back to him and crossing the room toward Frank, who was impatiently drumming his foot against the floor. She couldn't escape fast enough.

"Aurora?"

Momentarily thwarted, she stopped and turned in reaction to the deep voice.

"We'll meet again after dinner. Bring your charms textbook with you this time."

_Great. Another opportunity for him to stare at me like I've grown a second head._

"_Er_...alright, see you then." Lily reluctantly agreed, bolting for the door before Snape could get another word in.

* * *

Snape watched as Aurora and Frank disappeared out of the room, listening as their voices echoed in the corridors until they descended down the moving staircases. He sunk into his chair, the back of his neck prickling with the pain from Aurora's _exceptionally_ strong attack, and attempted to replay the events of the last hour over in his head.

Lady Aurora Rockford was a speed reader with an eidetic memory. She could read half of a textbook in a night and—without instruction—perform reasonably challenging spells, which also made her a self-learner. Furthermore, she appeared to have a natural talent for magic. These abilities, however, were not what impressed Snape the most; rather, it was the _power _which Aurora Rockford possessed.

When she had first lit the end of her wand, she had produced a light _so_ brilliant he had chastised her for showing off. When she had accidentally uttered the incantation for the fire charm, she had produced _enchanted fire_—the kind bordering on dark magic. And when she had disarmed him, she had not only driven his wand from his hand, but forcefully knocked him backwards. Likely unbeknownst to her, Aurora Rockford was _brimming_ with untrained power; a fact which both captivated and confused Snape. She was showing signs of great potential, and the thought of helping her realize her power…thereby _releasing it_…excited him, for there was _nothing_ Severus Snape loved more than power.

_We'll just have to see how much of Dumbledore's talents you've inherited, Lady Rockford._

* * *

Author's Notes

I have a feeling ya'll are _really_ going to like my next chapter. Why? You'll just have to wait and see! Please review, and I will update ASAP!

pratty-prongs-princesse

PS: Check out my story website and write in the guestbook! www . petalintherainstory . yolasite . com


	22. Chapter 22

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 22- That's Show-Biz! 

_Inside my heart is breaking,__  
__My makeup may be flaking,__  
__But my smile still stays on…__  
__  
__**The show must go on!**_

* * *

_August 1940: Day of the Hogwarts Gala_

_9:30 a.m._

Sirius Black stood before the floor-length mirror situated in his bedroom at Number 12 Grimmauld Place looking as handsome as ever. Outfitted in jet-black dress robes—which resembled traditional muggle tuxedos, but additionally featured sharp starched collars, exaggerated sleeves and regal coattails—and sporting a new, shorter haircut that alluringly accentuated his enviable bone structure, the playful lord looked ready to strut into the nearest high-class event.

Buckling the sleeves of his dress shirt with snappy silver cuff links and buttoning the front of his jacket, Sirius spun around to scrutinize the new, _expensive_ ensemble he had purchased from Madam Gladrags. Satisfied with his slick appearance, he ran his rough fingers through his newly-styled hair and stared back at his dashing reflection with piercing russet eyes. He smirked sexily, unable to stifle his overconfidence: He was dressed to _kill_.

Finally tearing his gaze away from his mirror, Sirius removed his coat and unfastened his white dress shirt, putting the clothing aside for later in the evening. He crossed his elegant room—which was purposely papered with Quidditch posters and crimson Gryffindor banners to hide the grotesque serpentine wallpaper—and jerked open the window parallel to his unmade bed, leaning out of it toward the puddled street, which was littered with busy, dour-faced muggles. He lit the end of the rolled cigarette he had tucked behind his ear and took a sustained, relieving drag.

He could already tell it was going to be a _long_ day. Though he had never protested to attending a party before—only too eager to take advantage of the free champagne and soak up the adoration of the ladies in attendance—Sirius had absolutely no desire to attend the annual Hogwarts Gala. While it was usually an entertaining evening, filled with dancing, boozing and dark-cornered kisses, he knew he would not enjoy this year's Gala, too distracted by worrisome thoughts of his best friend—whom he hadn't seen or heard from since he had found him hiding in one of the Potter's abandoned manors nearly a month ago. The absence of James from the event, coupled with the mission Dumbledore had given him, predicted a _very_ boring evening for him.

_Fucking Gala…_

A sudden knock sounded on Sirius' door, breaking his train of thought and alerting him to a presence outside of his room. He irritably rolled his eyes, in no mood to deal with either the manor's deranged house-elf or the despicable boy his despicable mother had insisted was his brother.

_Pity one cannot choose their family…_

"_Bugger off_, Kreacher. Go bother Regulus; I'm sure he'd be only _too_ happy to let you _grovel_ at his feet and spew profanities about muggleborns." Sirius called out acerbically, expelling a cloud of smoke from his mouth as he absentmindedly butted out his cigarette on the windowsill and flicked it into the grey street.

When the door creaked open, Sirius grimaced and turned on the spot, ready to give the intruder a piece of his mind; however, instead of coming face-to-face with his repulsive brother or the manor's nasty house-elf, he beheld the strange appearance of his best friend, James Potter.

"Do I look like a house-elf to you, Black?" James inquired with subdued humour, crossing the bedroom threshold and soundlessly closing the door behind him.

"_Prongs_!" Sirius gasped enthusiastically after a moment's hesitation, his face a mixture of astonishment and gladness as he quickly descended upon James and seized him into a manly hug, aggressively clapping him on the back, "What the _bloody hell_ are you doing here, mate? I was beginning to worry about you!"

A small smile flitted across James' face as he embraced him, but Sirius could immediately tell he was not yet back to normal, his usually animated eyes still sheltering quiet despair: "It's good to see you too, Padfoot. Sorry I haven't written."

"It doesn't matter—you're here now." Sirius replied heartily, his voice pulsating with keenness. He was making it no secret that he was pleased to see his best friend, "Here, let me quickly clean up so we can sit down and talk. I'd have tidied up if you'd owled me to let me know you were coming—"

"No you wouldn't have." James smirked briefly.

"You're probably right." Sirius mumbled humorously, chaotically piling his dress robes onto his bed and shoving a green chair toward James. Once he was finished scrambling around, his face became determined, "Now sit down and tell me what the _fuck_ you've been up to, Potter."

James waited until Sirius positioned another chair across from him and plunked down into it before offering his explanation, "I've mostly been travelling between properties, careful to avoid any contact with my mother. Some of the staff alerted her to my presence a couple weeks ago and she's been looking for me ever since. Meanwhile, I've been staying at Godric's Hollow; she's never known about it, and it's virtually unstaffed."

_He's still hiding…still running…_

"You've progressed to _liveable_ accommodations…that's encouraging." Sirius said cynically, thinking back to the decaying mansion James had first holed himself up in.

Though he had seen him a month earlier, upon James' arrival Sirius had instantly noticed his change of appearance. To begin, the previously-dapper lord appeared much slimmer, his jaw-line more pronounced, his muscles less evident and his eyes hollow behind his glasses. Additionally, James' hair was longer and messier than usual, his face also unshaven—dark stubble lining his chin and upper lip. Arriving dressed in a plaid shirt and ragged jeans, his skin golden-brown from sun exposure, Sirius thought he resembled more of a lumberjack than an aristocrat.

Despite the fact that James' sense of style and personal hygiene appeared to have fallen victim to his misery over the loss of Lily, Sirius was quietly relieved to see his best friend looking less crazed and distraught then he had been before…

"Sorry you had to see me like that." James apologized sombrely, sighing as he shamefully met Sirius' worried stare, "I wasn't in my right mind when I saw you last. I haven't had an easy go of it…but I'm trying to make my peace with…with _her _death now…"

_He can't even bring himself to say her name…_

"So…so you are beginning to feel…_better_?" Sirius questioned weakly, finding himself at a loss for words. He fidgeted with his silver cigarette case anxiously, snapping it open and closed repeatedly.

"If '_better_' means less tempted to throw myself off a cliff, then perhaps." James replied in a gravely quiet voice, his weary eyes fixed on the ground. Sirius gulped, silently hoping his best friend was exaggerating thoughts of suicide, "The pain…it hasn't lessened. She…she's still all I think about, but as the days go by I learn how to handle it better."

"I'm sorry, mate." Sirius whispered, his eyes shining with uncertainty and—as James discerned it— melancholy. Like his best friend, Sirius felt helpless, unsure of how to act or to handle the situation. There was no clear solution.

"I am as well." James breathed, collecting his face in his hands and wretchedly rubbing at his eyes, "It's been hell, Padfoot. I was at a complete loss as to how to manage my grief—but, then again, I didn't even _think_ about how to manage my grief until a few days ago. I just…succumbed to it."

"Well, I can see a change in you already." Sirius maintained supportively, grabbing James' shoulder to demonstrate his encouragement. He offered a weak smile in return: "You're calmer and you're beginning to think rationally…although you're also beginning to look like Bigfoot's cousin with all that scruff."

James snorted, tiredly looking up at his friend again, "Pardon me, I wasn't aware of the new dress code in the Black household. Why are you wearing coattails, exactly? Are you practicing your posture in the mirror, hoping Witch Weekly will invite you to model the front page?"

_There's a bit of the old James…_

"_Oh how clever_. Dumbledore's roped me into doing some reconnaissance at the Hogwarts Gala tonight." Sirius explained wryly, fishing another cigarette out of his pant pocket and pressing it between his lips.

"Ah ha, hunting for aristocratic death eaters." James articulated aloofly, watching Sirius blow a smoke-ring from his perfect mouth, "Can't say I envy you."

"If I recall correctly, this was supposed to be _your _mission." Sirius interjected smoothly, nonchalantly rising from his chair and checking out his new haircut in the mirror again.

"Your point, Black?"

"Well…now that you've emerged from your seclusion, why don't you come to the Gala? Two pairs of eyes are better than one and it'll help distract you for a while." Sirius proposed persuasively, settling back into his chair and casually crossing his legs, "Seeing you would also put the Order at ease; many are speculating about your disappearance."

James' grim facial expression communicating his answer before he even delivered it, "You've jumped to conclusions, Sirius. There's a reason I've come to speak with you today, and I'm sorry to say it isn't to tell you that I'm ready to return to the Order and re-join society as if nothing's happened."

"What? I'm not proposing you forgot about Lily's death altogether—I'm just suggesting you begin transitioning back into your normal life." Sirius pressed realistically, immediately regretting the use of Lily's name as it caused James' eyes to darken and his teeth to clench.

"Whatever you're _proposing_, it's not going to happen." James returned inflexibly, some of the madness returning to his expression, "This _is_ my life now. I will live with the realization that I _killed_ the only woman I've ever loved for the _rest_ of my existence."

"How can you _say_ that?" Sirius demanded forcefully, both he and James suddenly rising from their seats, prepared to wrestle the other to the floor, "You didn't fucking_ kill_ Lily; you tried to _save her_ and all the other muggles from those German lunatics! _It isn't your bloody fault London was bombed_!"

"You still don't understand, do you_? I_ was the only one who could have protected her! She had _no one_! _I_ could've taken her away, to somewhere safe…_I_ could've remained behind to be with her, to protect her…_but I didn't_. I deluded myself into thinking I was doing something valiant…that I was doing it for _her_, but I was just _fucking scared_ of what was going on between us! I did what a coward would do—_I ran_. I ran away from the only woman I've ever truly loved, and now her blood is on my hands."

Sirius shook his head, the passion with which James spoke a sign of how deeply he believed he was responsible for Lily's death. There would be no changing his mind; obviously he was not thinking as rationally as Sirius had supposed. The stubborn wizard that he was, Sirius sincerely doubted that James would ever let himself off the hook, blinded by anguish and his own code of honour.

"How is blaming yourself for her death and hiding away from the world going to resolve anything? Living with regret and sorrow is no testament to her memory." Sirius whispered defiantly, determined to eventually restore his best friend to his former glory, rather than let him slip into deep depression, "Do you think Lily would've wanted you to go on like this?"

James' eyes filled with bitterness, "I guess I'll never know, will I?"

Sirius sighed, shaking his head in frustration: "If you won't go with me to the Gala tonight, at least meet up with Dumbledore soon. Prongs…the Order _needs_ you. Why not use your anger and pain for the good of the wizarding world?"

His messy-haired friend did not meet his gaze, though his features softened, making him look more despondent than infuriated. Sirius adopted a pleading tone, praying he could get through to James: "Remus and Peter miss you…_I_ miss you. Please Prongs…won't you let us help you?"

James forlornly turned away and walked over to the room's open window, Sirius' words appearing to have made whatever it was he intended to say more difficult. When he finally managed to speak, Sirius braced himself, aware of how miserably absolute his tone was: "I'm sorry, Padfoot, but the good of the wizarding world isn't what I'm invested in right now. I've decided…well, I've decided that I'm going to Australia to re-enter the war."

Sirius froze, James' words refusing to compute in his brain. The fearful alarm and immediate panic that resulted from his friend's assertion were not new to him; he had felt the same way when James had originally told him of his intention to join the war-effort.

_Re-enter the war…in __**Australia**__? Merlin…_

"Australia is half-way across the world." Sirius said bluntly, the rawness in his voice taking James—who had expected him to start yelling or cussing—by surprise.

"I know…" James began delicately, treading lightly due to Sirius' cool demeanour. Their roles had suddenly reversed: "I can't join up again here—the Order would locate me soon enough. But, if I'm on another continent—or at least fighting on behalf of another continent within Europe—I'll likely be able to elude detection."

Disillusioned, Sirius sceptically scrunched up his beautiful face, looking at his friend as if he'd lost all his senses. Pausing to absorb the news, he realized there was only one question he wanted answered: "_Why_?"

Attuned to Sirius' disappointment, James suddenly felt guilty for his friend's remorse, aware that his actions were causing him pain: "I blame myself for…for _her_ death, but I also blame the Germans. I don't think I'll ever be able to find closure until this war is over…until I _avenge_ her. I've got to see this battle through, Padfoot."

Following James' rationalization, the room went deathly quiet, the atmosphere gravely humourless. The two men stared at each other, both sadly regarding the other, both wondering how they had arrived at that moment. In just a month everything had fallen to pieces; their boyish energy had been brutally sucked out of them, replaced with remorse, worry and fright. Like all those whose lives had been touched by war—both Brits and Germans alike—a part of their youth had been stripped away, and suddenly the world seemed a very dark place.

"I see." Sirius whispered, unmoving as he despairingly gazed at his broken friend, "You know, that's the first explanation of yours I've actually understood. I don't suppose you'll let me come with you again?"

"No. This is something I need to do on my own." James affirmed despondently, approaching Sirius and gripping his upper arm to communicate his regret, "Sirius, I fear this is the only way I'll make it through the grief. Promise me you won't follow me and that you'll tell no one of my whereabouts."

"Haven't I always kept your secrets?" Sirius returned hollowly, James nodding in return.

"Yes. I couldn't have asked for a better friend." James said genuinely, slowly releasing Sirius' arm and retrieving his wand from his pocket.

As James pulled away, Sirius' stomach dropped. He looked down at James' wand, his face—if possible—becoming even sterner, "When did you say you were departing for Australia?"

"…I'm leaving tonight, Padfoot."

Though he had expected James' departure to be immediate, Sirius' throat became very dry and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as if he's been jolted by an exposed electrical wire. He found it hard to believe that, for the first time in almost 10 years, he would not see his best friend on a regular basis; would not be fighting alongside him. Even more alarming, there was a chance that he would never see him again; a chance that he would not survive the war, as they had narrowly done before…

"_Tonight_? Can't you delay a day so I can see you off? Dumbledore needs me at the Gala…" Sirius trailed off, finding the thought of him at a party while James—alone yet again—left for another country to fight a war to be an unnerving one.

"I've already arranged a fireplace with the Ministry. I'll be taking the International Floo Network at midnight so no one will be around to observe me leaving. I pulled some strings in the Department of Transport; someone will stay behind after hours to let me into the Ministry." James explained quietly, demonstrating to Sirius the planning that had gone into his decision, "It's better if I leave on my own. You know me; I've never liked goodbyes."

"This isn't goodbye. You'll be back." Sirius rebelliously countered, trying to convince both himself and James of his declaration, "When you get the chance, owl me to update me on what's going on. I warn you: If I do not hear from you, I will come looking for you, promise or not."

James grinned, digging into his jean pockets and produced two mirrors the size of magnetic compasses, "I can do better than that. I figured sending messages via owl might attract the attention of the muggle soldiers, so I bought these. They are communication mirrors."

Sirius caught one of the little mirrors James threw to him, examining it in the palm of his hand. He tucked it into his pants, deciding then and there that he would always keep it on his persons, "This will do I suppose."

"Good. Try not to get killed by a death eater while I'm gone, alright?" James instructed Sirius in mock seriousness, pulling him into another hug and smacking the back of his head for good measure, "Then again, it's much more likely you'll accidentally die due to alcohol poisoning or something party-related."

"_Oi!_" Sirius yelped, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at his friend, "Well try not to get blown up, or shot down, or sent rocketing into the drink in a blazing inferno. And watch your tail; that's where you got yourself into trouble the last time."

"Really? And here I thought I crashed my plane in order to save _your_ ass from drowning." James smirked mockingly.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Sirius joked sadly, their cheerful banter at an end and reality beginning to set in. He looked up at James, sincere: "I hope you can find closure, Prongs. Good luck to you."

"You too, Padfoot." James replied honourably, drawing his wand and pointing it into his shoulder, "I'll see you later."

As soon as James disapparated, Sirius felt immeasurably despondent and alone—like he'd been left to defend against the horrors of the world on his own. He looked over at the crumpled robes on his bed and scowled, even more resentful of the Hogwarts Gala than he had been before.

* * *

_10:30 a.m._

Severus Snape discreetly sat on one of the stone steps leading down into the Hogwarts gardens, his most faithful friend—his Advanced Potion-Making textbook—spread over his lap. Squinting due to the midday sun's assaulting rays, he quietly turned to the flimsy page in his book where he had mistakenly written Lady Rockford's name down. As he studied his meticulously-neat cursive, secretly admiring the way the light made the dried ink shimmer, an achy feeling, akin to hunger cravings, stirred in his chest.

His intense gaze shifted upwards and found her again. There, in the middle of the lush garden, Aurora danced on a marble floor that had been fashioned for partygoers to enjoy later that evening. She practiced with her partner, Frank Longbottom, surrounded by pots of every kind of flower imaginable: buttercups, bluebells, chrysanthemums, lavender and roses. Above her hung multi-coloured paper lanterns, festively strung in the trees as if it were Chinese New-Years, and in the distant backdrop the Black Lake glittered beneath the persistent sun, the tips of its modest waves glistening like polished diamonds.

Despite the beautiful setting, the only thing that captured Snape's attention was Aurora. He inconspicuously watched as Frank twirled her about the floor, performing tricky lifts that made her long brunette hair sway pleasantly, and his ears perked up when her laughter perforated the warm, moist air. She had been taking dance lessons for almost a month now, preparing to make her debut at the Gala, and—unbeknownst to her—he had been watching her progress. At first she had been awful at it, not taking to the 'art' of dance as quickly or as naturally as she had taken to the practice of magic (a fact which greatly amused him), but she had gradually improved and was now a more-than-adequate dancer. He was impressed by how effortlessly and gracefully she now travelled the dance-floor in her pink ballet slippers and white summer's dress.

_Is there anything you can't do…?_

He sighed deeply, aware of how much time he now spent thinking about Aurora Rockford. Ever since he had met her she had puzzled him. Every expectation he had formed about her she had proven wrong, right from the start. She was unlike any noblewomen he had ever met, for she lacked arrogance, a sense of self-entitlement, and snobbery. She was always quick to challenge gender norms, fiercely maintaining her independence at every turn, and seemed determined to prove her own skill and intelligence to him. But Besides her natural magical ability and peculiar nature, what Snape considered most unusual about Aurora was the way in which she interacted with him.

Since he had begun teaching at Hogwarts almost three years ago, Snape had been met with disdain, disrespect and haughty contempt. With the exception of the scholarship children, the noble students of Hogwarts often treated him with unacceptable levels of insolence—largely due to his lack of title and 'pure' blood. Male students were habitually uncooperative and indignant, while female students—_especially_ those enrolled in the Arts program—frequently exhibited little effort or willingness to learn any content viewed as being expressly masculine, such as Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. Yet, unlike both the male and female students, Aurora not only demonstrated a thirst for knowledge and humbly considered his suggestions and corrections, but yearned to become proficient in the most male-dominated subject of them all: Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Snape smiled to himself: Aurora's academic development had been remarkable. She was reasonably good at Transfiguration and Potions, having already reached a fourth year level in both subjects in under a month, and she had quickly mastered History of Magic due to her eidetic memory, reading and memorizing all the books required for a seventh year level. She appeared to struggle the most with Herbology, which she had taken an immediate dislike to after being bitten by a fanged geranium, and showed little interest in Astronomy. Her best subject _by far_ was Charms, which she seemed to have an inborn, near _extraordinary_ talent for, and—though he had not committed to teaching her the subject yet—Aurora continued to express a desire to learn Defence Against the Darks Arts. While he had not yet given her any instruction in the subject, he was acutely aware that a handful of Dark Arts textbooks were missing from the library.

_Her determination to succeed practically surpasses my own… _

He never would've envisioned it, but—though he had only known her for a month, and though he _abhorred_ the aristocracy—Snape found himself _liking_ Aurora Rockford. He admired how very _unlike_ a noblewoman she actually was and found her to be strangely endearing. There was something that made her particularly unique; though Snape wasn't sure what it actually was, he knew it wasn't the power she possessed.

His eyes suddenly blackened as Frank and Aurora ceased dancing and the pig-headed lord—a dazzling smile illuminating his face—bowed toward her, gently taking her dainty hand in his and kissing it. He scowled tetchily, the lord's lips lingering on her hand far too long for his taste. The dance rehearsal seemingly at an end, he climbed to his feet—irritably green-eyed—and swiftly began ascending the stairs, keen to escape into the castle before either dancer noticed he had been watching them.

* * *

_11:00 a.m._

"—And once the dance has ended, you will curtsey and I will bow—but, before I arise, I will take your hand and kiss it like so." Frank coached Lily suavely, taking her hand and kissing it elegantly. He grinned when she rolled her eyes at his gauche gesture.

"_Really, _Frank: It isn't the formalities _after_ the dance I'm worried about, but the routine itself." Lily chastised tenaciously, removing her hand from the charming lord's grip and frowning due to her growing anxiety over the Gala.

Once physical preparations for the Gala had commenced, a sense of panic had overcome Lily, the realization that she would be confronting the magical aristocracy in a matter of hours becoming undeniable. For days the dedicated house-elves of Hogwarts had been racing about the castle, dressing dining tables in silk linens, polishing silver utensils, fixing flower arrangements and building towers of champagne glasses. The Dining Hall had been swathed in elegant white cloth and adorned with light blue and mauve flowers, an architecturally-spectacular chandelier with tear-drop shaped glass carefully hung in the middle of it. The long House tables had been removed, replaced with smaller, circular tables arranged around the outskirts of a furbished dance-floor, and a small stage had been constructed to house a plethora of instruments, including a drum-set, a set of brass flutes and a cello. Lily was certain she had heard the band practicing their set earlier that morning, the sound of a saxophone having drifted out to the garden…

"Oh stop worrying, would you? We'll be fine tonight." Frank contended reassuringly, offering the girl a cheering smile as he easily looped an arm around her shoulders, "You were bullocks at this dance a month ago, but you've really improved—"

"_I wasn't bullocks_!" Lily yelped in reaction to Frank's teasing, glaring up at the grinning man and tucking her right arm around his waist as he began directing her out of the gardens and into the back-end of the Dining Hall.

"You certainly were, but it's not your fault you were born with two left feet." Frank persisted mischievously, chuckling as Lily playfully pounded against his abdomen with her free hand, "_Ow_!"

"You watch your tongue, Frank Longbottom, or I'll _accidentally _step on your foot tonight with the pointy heel of my shoe." Lily warned in mock-seriousness, secretly entertained by the lord's repartee.

"You dare and I'll _accidentally_ drop you while we're dancing." Frank retorted coyly, fondly looking down at the feisty brunette, "When I dip you low, my hands _might just_ _slip_—"

"You wouldn't! My _dear_ Uncle Albus would _sack you_ if you attempted any such thing." Lily countered vivaciously, breaking away from the amused lord and flirtatiously strutting into the dynamic Dining Hall, the modest train of her summer dress billowing behind her.

"You _wish_ you had that much power over me." Frank assiduously followed in her wake, his huntsman eyes attentive to her body's every sway.

"As I've been taught, being the niece of Lord Albus Dumbledore—_discoverer of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and vanquisher of the evil Grindelwald_—has its perks." Lily called out sassily, stopping in the middle of the Dining Hall, which was bustling with house elves setting up for the Gala, and flashing Frank a devilish smile, "What makes you think I won't use my newfound power and knowledge against _you_, Frankie?"

"You little demon!" Frank cried out dramatically, swiftly grabbing the giggling girl from behind and twirling her around until—between breathless gasps of mirth—she begged him to stop, "What did I say about calling me _Frankie_? I hate that nickname! It makes me sound like I'm three-years-old."

"Well you certainly act like you are." Lily teased, grasping her sides in case Frank attempted to tickle them in retaliation.

"You're so annoying!" Frank claimed humorously, throwing up his hands in defeat and earning a satisfied smirk from Lily, "How I'm going to survive an _entire_ evening with you is beyond me."

"_Believe me_, I share in that sentiment. I expect I'll have to consume _copious_ amounts of champagne just to keep sane." Lily returned cleverly.

"I can see the tabloid headline now: '_Lady Rockford's Drunken Debut_'. As if your _dancing ability_ isn't going to embarrass you enough!" Frank barked with laughter, expertly dodging another swipe from the vexed girl.

"Keep in mind, _Lord Longbottom_, if I embarrass myself I embarrass _you_ by extension." Lily cautioned dangerously, making Frank chuckle.

"You're quite right, _Lady Rockford_. Don't you dare mess up tonight, then; I can't have you ruining my fine reputation." Frank ordered condescendingly, matching Lily's unimpressed glower with an arrogant smile as he coolly turned on his heels and headed for the double-doors providing entrance to the Great Hall.

Taken aback by his sudden retreat, Lily grimaced, "Where do you think you're going, Longbottom?"

Amused, he stopped and turned to look at her, "Time's a tickin', Lady Rockford. I have a few errands to run before the Gala, which—if you hadn't noticed—is only a few hours away. As much as I'd _love_ to stay and flirt, we both need to get ready."

_Flirt? I'm not flirting! He has some nerve…_

Choosing to ignore his taunt, Lily folded her arms indignantly, apprehension beginning to set in again, "Believe it or not, I don't need _five hours_ to get ready for a gala."

"Obviously you've never been to one." Frank retorted sardonically, supressing a superior grin, "You'll see I'm right soon enough. Now, there should be attendants waiting to prepare you in Gryffindor Tower. I'll meet you in the common room at 5:30 sharp. We'll meet up with Dumbledore outside of the Dining Hall around 5:45. The pair of you are slotted to make your entrance at 6."

"_Entrance_?" Lily echoed sceptically, her features communicating her confusion.

"Did I forget to mention the entrance? As Dumbledore is the host of the Gala, he must enter the hall last. Due to your relation, you will be entering on his arm. The gesture represents him presenting and introducing you to high society." Frank explained calmly, aware of Lily's sudden trepidation, "It's nothing to fret about. Once you've arrived, Dumbledore will hand you off to me and the three of us will begin to circle the room together. After Dumbledore has introduced you to the most important people, the dancing will commence."

Lily gulped, the back of her neck tingling. Looking about the ornamented Hall again, she felt the sudden urge to pee, the sheer extravagance of the formal set-up causing dread to build within her: "I'll see you at 5:30, then."

"You'll be fine, just wait and see. I'm sure the evening will turn out to be quite humdrum." Frank insisted kindly, turning on his heel and exiting the Dining Hall.

Lily hugged her sides as she watched the young lord depart, quite sure the evening would be anything _but_ humdrum.

* * *

_5:00 p.m._

Sirius Black sat alone in a dark corner of the Three Broomsticks smoking a cigarillo and drinking a firewhiskey, his designer dress shoes lazily propped up on the table. He leaned back in his chair and sighed a drab breath of soothing, pungent smoke, calmly watching as the owner of the bar—Madam Rosmerta—scrambled to appease the growing number of highborn patrons flooding into her middle-class bar. It occurred to him that many guests were keen on enjoying a quiet drink in Hogsmeade before the festivities at Hogwarts began: He was glad no one noticed him in his shadowed alcove, quite eager for a moment's peace.

"_Fifi_, is that you, darling?" a female aristo with curly, cherry-coloured hair exclaimed in an irritably high-pitched voice as another young girl descended from the staircase across the room. Recognizing the caller, the girl—dressed in a canary-yellow gown and a feathered fascinator—crossed the room and exchanged air-kisses with the woman, all the while smiling with impeccably white teeth.

Sirius groaned unhappily, massaging his temples as a headache began to set in. Upset his peace had been rudely shattered, he shoved his glass of firewhiskey away and glared up at the disruptive girls.

_Ah yes; Lady Fifi Lafolle. If I recall correctly, I've sleep with her at least once or twice before…_

He reluctantly listened in on the remainder of the ridiculous girls' conversation:

"_Oh_, Laurentia! I was _so_ hoping you would be attending the Gala tonight." Fifi expressed affectionately, pulling away from her redheaded friend to admire her dress, "Don't you look beautiful! Wherever did you buy such a lovely gown?"

"This old thing? I came across it when my mother and I were shopping in Berlin." Laurentia smiled proudly, twisting one of her curls around a gloved finger, "You look stunning as well, Fifi. What a marvellous little fascinator!"

"You're too kind."

"Nonsense! But do indulge me, Fifi, for I noticed you came down from the bar's boarding quarters: Whatever were you doing up _there_? You and Barney didn't rent a room and start the party early, did you?" She mischievously winked, secretly delighted by her friend's uncomfortable squirming.

"Keep your voice down, Laurentia!" Fifi flushed in embarrassment, nervously looking about the room to see if anyone had overheard the lewd comment. She whispered very seriously: "_You know I'm a virgin_. Barney is very traditional...I'll have to wait until he proposes to me—"

_HA! You little liar. _Sirius grinned and downed the rest of his firewhiskey, deciding to ignore his headache. He cherished the bitter taste in his mouth—felt satisfied by how it gratifyingly burned down his throat. _Looks like I beat you to it, Barney._

"—Anyways, I had Daddy rent me a room for the afternoon so I could get ready for the Gala. I couldn't stand the thought of apparating here after I was done up. Can you imagine what apparation would've done to my hair?" Fifi inquired rhetorically, looking simply horrified by the idea. Sirius rolled his eyes, disgusted by her prissiness.

"What an excellent idea." Laurentia parroted conversationally, "I can hardly wait for the Gala to begin. Why don't we take a carriage down to Hogwarts together? I'm sure your parents wouldn't mind. We could catch up on our summers. I'd love to see Barney, too."

"That sounds like a darling idea! Did you bring a date to the Gala, by the by?"

"No…it's a little embarrassing, actually. If you can believe it, one of the Bagman twins—Otto—asked to escort me tonight. _As if_ he'd be allowed into the event, the bally fool!" Laurentia scoffed snottily, referring to the fact that Otto Bagman was not of noble birth, "I don't know where the Bagmans get their nerve, honestly."

"Well, perhaps you'll get lucky and find a dance partner for the night! I heard from a _very_ reliable source that both James Potter _and_ Sirius Black will be at the Gala tonight." Fifi smiled saucily, causing Laurentia's eyebrows to arch in contented surprise, "Regulus is supposed to be in attendance tonight too. He's _such_ a dish, just like his older brother…although I think Sirius is the most handsome man I've ever seen!"

As the women girlishly giggled, Sirius' heart dropped, the mention of James unexpectedly distressing him. _Just as I was attempting to push the whole ordeal to the back of my mind for the night…Stupid birds. _He unconsciously slammed his empty tumbler down on the table, causing the ice-cubes to bounce out and onto the table. Jarred by the noise, Madam Rosmerta hurried over to him and inquired if he wanted another drink, which he grumpily agreed to: "And make it a double-shot, will you, Rosie?"

At the sound of his masculine voice, the two noblewomen looked over at him, their eyes widening in delighted surprise. Fifi blushed violently, the erotic memories that suddenly flooded her consciousness making her tingle in all the right places. Sirius cussed under his breath, realizing they had spotted him, and readied himself to be inundated with adulation, "_Goodness_, is that you, Lord Black? You look positively…_sex_—I-I-I mean, _smashing_…"

"_OI_, _Black_! We've been bloody looking for you everywhere!"

The hot and bothered girl was interrupted as Lords Fabian and Gideon Prewett—dressed in matching tuxedos—rudely cut in front of her and gracelessly took seats at Sirius' table. At that same moment, Lord Barnabus Cuff sauntered into the Three Broomsticks to collect his pink-faced girlfriend, the buttons on his polka-dotted dress shirt close to popping as his belly spilled over the belt of his too-short pants. As he impatiently escorted Fifi out, Sirius smirked cockily, the blonde-haired beauty looking back at him longingly as her chubby boyfriend spirited her away to the party.

"Boys, you have impeccable timing. Shall I order you a glass?" Sirius grinned at the identical red-headed men as he swished the amber contents of his refreshed glass about and drank down a mouthful.

"_Good God_, Black! How do you expect to conduct an investigation tonight when you're already half drunk?" Fabian demanded sternly, scoffing as his brother beckoned for the barmaid.

"I'll have whatever Black's having." Gideon ordered, pointing to Sirius' half-empty (or half-full?) glass.

"I always thought you were the better brother, Gideon." Sirius joked, clinking his glass against Gideon's and removing another cigarillo from his dress-robe pocket. He took a long, relaxing drag to banish thoughts of his best friend from his mind, "So, what did Dumbledore have to say?"

Fabian leaned in closer to Sirius, his hazel eyes brimming with determination. Before his brother began, Gideon lazily performed a charm that muffled their voices in order to prevent other patrons from eavesdropping on their confidential conversation: "There's a list of noble families we're to keep our eyes and ears trained on. In particular the Dolohovs, the Rosiers, the Yaxleys, the Malfoys, and…well, Dumbledore wants an eye kept on your cousin Narcissa and your brother, Regulus, too."

Sirius looked up from his drink uncertainly: "Dumbledore is suspicious of Regulus? The boy is absolutely spineless; I can't imagine him having the guts to join You-Know-Who's ranks." He drawled darkly, his eyes trained on the smouldering end of his cigar. Sirius wondered how much more bad news he could take in a day: "Narcissa on the other hand; the girl's a snake—absolutely _ruthless_. I doubt Cissy is as deranged as Bella, but at eighteen she's already associated herself with the likes of Malfoy. She seems like the perfect candidate for a death eater's wife, in my opinion."

"With a few glasses of champagne in her, she might just let a couple of Malfoy's secrets slip." Gideon chuckled enigmatically, finishing the remainder of his firewhiskey and smacking his lips together.

"Dumbledore has Elphias Doge on watch, too. Between the five of us, we should be in good shape." Fabian explained quietly, his eyes shifting about the room inconspicuously, "Dumbledore and Doge will focus on the older crowd. Gideon and I will try and dance the girls around—Lysandra Yaxley and Narcissa. It'll be difficult, especially considering how domineering Malfoy is, but we'll try and swing it."

"And who am I to focus on?" Sirius asked Fabian wearily, already bored by the thought of working during a party.

_All I want to do is get knackered and shag a pretty girl to get my mind off James leaving…_

"Dumbledore suggested you try and chum with Regulus' friends when he's not around. He seems to think they'll warm more to you because of your bloodline. See if you can't get them obnoxiously drunk and goad them into bragging about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Sound manageable." Sirius responded dryly, holding back his grumbles until the twins left for the Gala. He looked up as chairs began to scrape against the floor and nobles who had stopped in for a quick pick-me-up began to shuffle out of the bar: "Looks like everybody is departing for Hogwarts."

"We better leave as well. It's almost 5:30; Alice will be wondering where we are." Gideon pointed out, rising out of his seat along with Fabian, "Care to join us in our carriage, Black?"

"You two go on ahead. I think I'll have another drink before I make my grand entrance." Sirius lackadaisically signalled for Rosmerta, ignoring Fabian's disapproving stare.

"Another drink and you won't be able to walk straight. You'll also be terribly late."

"_Fashionably_ late is the term, if I recall." Sirius grinned defiantly, "I usually stumble into these sorts of parties half-drunk anyway. Wouldn't want to raise suspicion by arriving on time and sober."

"C'mon, Fabian, he'll be along soon." Gideon pulled on his stubborn brother's arm, trying to relax the budding anger on his twin's face.

"You better show, Black." Fabian growled tetchily, Sirius matching his stony glare with a provoking grin, "Wouldn't want to earn a bad reputation within the Order like your _best friend_ did. Nobody likes a turncoat."

"Sticks and stones, Prewett." Sirius nonchalantly responded, disguising how angry Fabian's reference to James had truly made him by lighting another cigar, "Now sod off. And do keep in mind, the next time you attempt to intimidate me with empty threats, I'll shove your wand up your arsehole and stir up your organs, got it?"

Incensed, Fabian opened his mouth to retort, but was disrupted by his brother's sharp, barking laughter. Gideon grabbed him by his shirt's starched lapel and dragged him away from Sirius—who impishly winked as Fabian flashed him the finger before he was brusquely shoved out of the bar.

Once the brothers were gone, Sirius was left alone with his tormenting thoughts again. He thrust a hand in his right pant pocket and pulled out the mirror James had given to him, turning it over in his palm to inspect the silver etchings on the back. He wondered how often he and James would talk—if there would be days or weeks between their correspondences. As he turned over the mirror again, taking in his dashing image in the spotless glass, he felt tempted to test out the contraption.

_No, I shouldn't. He just gave me the ruddy thing…and if I bother him straight away he'll regret ever giving it to me and probably smash it to pieces. The man's got a ridiculous temper._

Sirius sighed and put the hand mirror back into his pocket. He'd need at least one more drink before he could stomach going to the Gala.

* * *

_5:30 p.m._

Lily stood quietly at her dormitory window, her posture woefully statuesque. Unmoving, she looked very much like the literary subject of a pre-Raphaelite portrait: her beautiful brown hair—twisted up into an elegant up-do—appeared golden in the late afternoon's light, while her unblemished, porcelain skin looked as if it had been coloured with rosy blush. The lids of her blue eyes, softened by the sun, were painted with charcoal eyeliner and silver pigment, and her lips were coated with cerise lipstick.

However, more striking than her makeup, hair, and even the almond shaped diamonds that hung from her ears, was the deep violet dress snuggly clinging to her thin frame.

It was the finest garment Lily had ever laid her eyes upon. When she had asked Madam Gladrags to order her a dress for the Hogwarts Gala, the shopkeeper—who Dumbledore had secretly owled to inform that money was no object—had immediately picked a dress her couturiers in Paris had been working on for months; a gown they had nicknamed _Le rêve de Phenicienne, _or _The Phoenician's Dream_. The dress, fashioned from silk dyed the colour of blackberry wine, was strapless and had a tailored bodice with a sweetheart neckline. Decorated with finely-sewn lace, it also had an ample skirt—supported with underwire—that accentuated Lily's small waist and flowed behind her in a moderately-long train. Wearing matching elbow-length gloves patterned with the same intricate white lace, Lily was an absolute vision in the elegant dress.

Though she expected Frank to arrive and bundle her off to the Gala at any moment, Lily could not force her nostalgic eyes away from the still lake outside, its waters bathed in fiery orange sunshine. A strange feeling stirred in her stomach as black carriages ambled toward the front steps of Hogwarts along the road adjacent to the lake and stunning people, dressed in coattails and evening gowns, streamed into the castle. She'd been nervous about the Gala all day—afraid that she wouldn't convincingly fit in with the aristocracy; that her knowledge of the magical world was inadequate. She couldn't help worrying about the details: How was Frank was going to interact with her in front of the guests? What were his parents were going to do when they met her, and what was he was going to tell them? Were they going to hold her hand all night, or—even worse—was he was going to try and kiss her to guarantee the disguise?

_"I used to wake up early in the summer, even in early autumn, and swim to the middle of the lake at my boarding school."_

Lily's face fell as she continued to gaze at the majestic Great Lake. She and Frank had grown quite close over the past month, seeing each other nearly every other day in order to attend dance lessons together and prepare for the Gala. They had spent hours pouring over the particulars of her disguise, discussing everything from how they had purportedly met and started courting to which fork was meant to be used at dinner. During their time together, Lily had grown to really trust and know Frank, whom she now considered a friend. Though Dumbledore occasionally joined her for meals, he was often too busy to spend quality time teaching her about the magical world. Frank had explained that, as head of the Order of the Phoenix and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore had many other things to worry about and attend to other than her protection: As such, Frank Longbottom had emerged as her one constant confidant—the person whom she had come to rely upon the most.

_"Are you cold? You're shivering."_

_"Maybe a little…" _

_"Let me take you back to the house. You'll be warm there."_

Lily turned away from the window and closed her eyes. Life at St. Madeline's seemed a blur to her now. After a month of hard study and preparation—a month spent away from civilization as she had known it, with three very different wizards who had wholeheartedly committed themselves to helping her become a full-fledged witch—she had begun to wonder if her previous life had even been real. Memories of London were like disembodied ghosts to her now; however, though the memories in her incredible mind were becoming hazier with each passing day, the harrowing feelings associated with them lingered—_especially_ feelings for Lord James Potter.

_"I...I don't want this to be the last time I see you…"_

Lily suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She had become so wrapped up in her new life at Hogwarts—her lessons with Snape and Frank—and so desperate not to disappoint Dumbledore that she had barely thought of James at all. All her time was spent learning, reading or worrying about whether or not she could credibly assimilate into the magical aristocracy. Consequently, the only time she ever had to herself was at night, just before she fell asleep; fleeting time to think, especially since—dead tired after days spent studying—she would fall asleep as soon as her head touched a pillow. Alarmingly, Lily realized James had literally been rendered a figment of her dreams...

_And here I am now, wondering what it would feel like to have Frank kiss me…_

Lily exhaled loudly, weakly grabbing for one of the wooden posts of her bed to steady herself, a wave of nausea making her feel faint. She began to breathe heavily, recollections of James making her suddenly feel dizzy with guilt and sorrow. Still clinging to her bedpost, Lily looked up at the dolled-up image of herself in the talking mirror and abruptly felt repulsed.: She didn't recognize herself anymore.

_What would you think if you saw me now, James…? _

A knock suddenly sounded at Lily's dormitory door, startling her: "Aurora, are you decent? Can I come in? We must get going, it's almost 5:45…"

_Bullocks._

"Just a moment!" Lily called out in a strained voice, attempting to mask her upset as she recognized Frank's boyish voice. Clutching her stomach, Lily crossed the room toward her vanity table and clumsily ripped open one of the drawers, removing a small bottle of emerald-coloured potion. Unstopping the little vessel, she swallowed a mouthful of pepper-up potion—which she had brewed during one of Snape's lessons—and took a deep breath. After a moment's pause, Lily straightened up, her nausea having immediately subsided, "Come in, Frank."

As Frank opened the door and entered, Lily was at once struck by how debonair he looked. The young lord's dirty-blonde hair was neatly smoothed back on his head and his shoes were immaculately shiny, making them squeak as he strolled in. He wore a simple black tuxedo with coattails and embellished sleeves—which communicated a very conservative, professional manner—and had a sharp bowtie perfectly enfolded around his shaven neck. Lily thought he cleaned-up nicely.

She offered Frank a weak smile as he came in, partially to hide her upset and partially because she was impressed by his attire, but immediately ceased as he abruptly halted—appearing astounded—and soaked up her appearance with expressly stunned eyes. Crumpling her made-up face, Lily uncomfortably mustered, "Is something wrong…?"

Frank's eyes widened as he realized how ridiculous he likely looked. He cleared his throat awkwardly and attempted to recover from his blunder: "_No_…absolutely not. So sorry…it's just…_Merlin_, if you don't mind me saying, you look absolutely _stunning_, Aurora. That dress…well I guess it just took me off guard. I've never seen you look so…_so_—"

Lily blinked incredulously, oblivious to Frank's compliment and deaf to the rest of his sentence as another memory from the day she had swam in the pond on the Potter property with James suddenly paralyzed her senses. She gasped, taken aback by the echo of his roguish voice in her mind:

_"__**Merlin**__, you'll be the death of me! That's the thanks I get for saving you from getting run over? Drowning me? Sorry, but I had something else in mind…"_

Lily stiffened, her eyes filling with shock and disbelief as her mind worked relentlessly to piece together the details that began emerging from her subconscious. Frank watched as her eyes widened in recognition and she turned away from him, as if he weren't there. He frowned, confused by her actions, and immediately suspected he had somehow offended her.

_James said 'Merlin' that day in the pond…The only people I've ever heard say that are __**wizards**__._

"Aurora, are you alright?" Frank inquired, walking over towards her. Lily didn't seem to hear him, collapsing into a chair at her vanity table and collecting her face in her hands. She didn't know whether she was going to burst into tears or double over with laughter, the situation she had found herself in so overwhelming that she was having trouble figuring out how to mentally cope.

_"What about you? What school did you go to?"_

_"I went to Hogwarts School of Witch—er...I mean, Hogwarts School__in__Winchester…"_

_"Hogwarts? I've never heard of it…but then again, I suppose it's some__posh__school for the__lordly__type."_

_"Yes...I suppose the students admitted are somewhat…__**different**__."_

Lily wanted to scream.

"Are you feeling ill?" Frank asked softly as he came up beside Lily and kneeled beside her chair. Having forgotten his presence in her room, Lily sluggishly looked up at Frank when he placed an arm around her shoulder, "If it's nerves, I understand. We've been preparing for this night for nearly a month…but you really have no reason to worry, Aurora. I promise I'll be watching out for you."

_Oh my God…James went here, to Hogwarts…but he tried to make it seem like it was a muggle university…he was trying to disguise the fact that he is a…a…_

"I-I'm sorry, I'm just feeling a little lightheaded. I just took some pepper-up potion a moment ago." Lily managed weakly, momentarily breaking her train of thought as she attempted to shield her emotional revelations from him. As another wave of unease washed over her, she grasped Frank's shoulder to hold herself upright.

"Oh dear…" Frank muttered as he held onto the shaky girl to steady her.

_Is it really possible? James…a __**wizard**__?_

All Lily wanted was a moment to _think_—a moment to logically contemplate the memories of James that were screaming for her attention…that were pointing to a startling truth—but she had a duty to Frank and Dumbledore—to herself—to go downstairs and attend a party that would help to ensure her safety in the wizarding world and solidify all the plans her protectors had put into place for her…

_All along we were both wizards…all along I __**did**__ belong in his world…_

"Perhaps that pretty little dress of yours is laced up too tight." Frank smirked as he helped Lily to her feet, though his eyes betrayed his concern for the pale-faced girl, "Will you be alright? I hate to rush you when you're feeling sick—"

"I'm…I'll be just fine. Must be my nerves…but won't you help me down the dormitory stairs? These shoes are murder to walk in." Lily waved Frank off unconvincingly, desperately grappling his arm as her insides twisted unpleasantly. She thought she might pass out at any moment, the overwhelming truth translating physically, but ignored her bodily discomfort, too preoccupied with her revelations about James.

_I can't believe it's taken me this long to make the connection…_

"It'll probably do you some good to get into the Dining Hall; much better ventilation in there. We'll sit out in the gardens for a while if you're still feeling green. The fresh air might help." Frank remarked encouragingly, watching her carefully as he lead her out of her room and into the crimson and gold- bedecked Gryffindor Common Room.

"You're probably right…" Lily affirmed agreeably, offering Frank a feeble smile before she looked away, her eyes clouding over again. Her lack of attention and presence did not escape the observant lord, who had become quite accustomed to her vibrant and curious nature.

Deciding not to barrage her with more questions and exacerbate her apparent illness, Frank sighed and announced the secret password to the Fat Lady—who appeared to be hosting a small cocktail party in her portrait on account of the celebrations in the castle that evening. Once the picture swung open, Lily and Frank—arm in arm—quietly stepped out into the adjoining stone hallway and headed toward the moving staircases. As they walked, Lily's painful feelings of anxiety concerning both James and the Gala grew worse, manifesting in the pit of her stomach and causing electric shudders to snake up her spine and arms. Her mind was racing, and although she had ingested a pepper-up potion, newfound biliousness and vertigo sprung from her angst.

_Oh God…James is a wizard…and he'll never know I'm one, too. For all I know, he could be dead…_

Lily's vision began to blur as rebellious tears which refused to remain hidden suddenly stung her eyes: she was going to be sick: "_Oh no_, I've just realized I forgot my wand upstairs! I'll just run and get it quickly—" Lily exclaimed out of the blue, leaning down to slip off her tricky shoes and turning away from Frank before he could get a glimpse of her downtrodden face.

"Wha…_what_? You don't need your wand at a party!" Frank called out in a mixture of confusion and frustration as she hurried away from him in bare feet, her purple train trailing behind her.

"I'll be back in a moment!" Lily replied breathlessly, desperately pushing her body—which was on the brink of collapse—around the corner and out of Frank's sight; she did not want him to see her so dishevelled, nor did she want to explain her distress, "Just meet me in the Great Hall! I'll be but a minute!"

"_Wait_! I'll come with—" Frank worriedly began jogging after her; he stopped dead in his tracks when he recognized the finality in her response.

"_NO_, you go and meet up with Dumbledore and explain why I'll be late! I'll be right back—"

Once Lily disappeared around the corner and safely out of sight, she staggered back towards Gryffindor Tower, blinded by panicked tears. She didn't know what she was going to achieve by going back to her room, having already drunk the only medical potion she had, but hoped to find an incantation in one of her textbooks that would calm her hyper mind and agitated body…

_There's no way I can convincingly attend the Gala in this state…not when all I can think about is James and what could have been…_

Suddenly feeling inexplicably faint, Lily let a despairing gasp sound from her lips as she blearily lurched into a wall and slid down onto the cold floor. Feeling disoriented—dizzy colours and images rushing by her as if she were riding an out-of-control carousal—Lily tried to get back up to her feet again, but fell onto her hands and knees as nausea rendered her helpless. She moaned in desperate frustration, aware of how powerless she was, and began to subtly shake.

_Everything is so FUCKED UP! I'm not in control of anything in my life…_

She closed her eyes and attempted to dispel the blackness that threatened to overcome her senses, wondering how long it would take Frank to find her and what he would tell Dumbledore when she didn't show up to the Gala…

_What does it matter anyway? What does any of it matter…if he's dead...?_

As Lily began to surrender to the calm that was unconsciousness, she recognized the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and, very suddenly, sensed a presence beside her. She recoiled as a cold hand reached out and touched her forehead and face, but found she could neither open her eyes nor form words. As the stranger kneeling beside her removed his clammy hand from her warm face, she became aware of the acrid, pungent smell of chemicals that clung to his skin and robes.

_I know that scent…_

"_Accio Wiggenweld!_" Lily heard the stranger darkly mutter under his breath, the muffled sound of rustling fabric and the squelch of a cork being squeezed from the top of a bottle following the magical command. Her mind raced as she tried to comprehend why the stranger's hand snaked into her hair, subtly tilting her head back, and a glass container was put to her lips. Though her instincts cried for her to resist, the stranger tipped the contents of the ampule into her mouth and a mint-flavoured potion coated her tongue and throat, slipping slyly into her belly.

"Open your eyes, Aurora."

Quite unexpectedly, Lily realized the sombre voice belonged to Severus Snape. Her eyelids immediately fluttered open, her senses magically heightened due to the potion that had been administered to her. She felt as if she had been electrocuted back into existence, the nerves and muscles in her body buzzing with newfound energy.

"P-Professor Snape." Lily stammered in embarrassment as he bore into her with his penetrating black eyes. A self-conscious hand flew to her forehead; she discovered that the fever that had been mounting within her had subsided, "I'm s-sorry—I don't know what happened. I was feeling ill and…well, I must have just collapsed…"

Remaining purse-lipped, Snape studied Lily's appearance with what she believed to be disapproval. When his keen eyes focused on her wildly elaborate dress and low-cut neckline—one of his slender eyebrows rising incredulously—Lily thought she might die from humiliation.

"Come on, get up." Snape said, lazily extending a hand towards her once he had concluded his appraisal of her odd state.

"Er—thank you." Lily accepted his ashen hand and inelegantly climbed to her feet, slipping her abandoned shoes back on once she was righted, "What was that potion you gave me?"

"Wiggenweld potion. It awakens those who find themselves in magically-induced slumbers." Snape explained dryly, pocketing a newly-empty potions vile and deliberately looking away from Lily's legs as she pulled her dress up to strap on her shoes, "Apparently I was right in deducing that you'd worked yourself into such a condition. I told you before that you need to get a grip on your magic—you're unknowingly internalizing it and turning it against yourself."

"You mean _I'm_ the cause of my own blackout?" Lily demanded of her tutor sceptically, awkwardly folding her arms across her chest, uneasy in Snape's presence dressed as she was. She'd known from the get-go that he had a strong dislike of the aristocracy, and therefore felt uncomfortable parading around as a lady in front of him.

_God, why do I care what he thinks?_

"What were you doing just before you began to feel faint?" Snape inquired as evenly as possible, painfully aware of how she squirmed endearingly in her fitted gown due to his quietly ravening gaze.

"Well…" Lily began vulnerably, wishing she had her security blanket—her wand—with her as she faced the undeniably clever teacher in her girly getup, "I was having a bit of a panic attack, actually. I've never been to a gala before and I'm afraid that I…that I won't fit in, I suppose."

Though Lily had only revealed half of the reason why she bad been panicking, she wondered what had possessed her to even divulge what she had to Snape, a person whom she had never had a particularly personal conversation with. She predicted he would react with a witty jib or a superior smirk, but—to her utter surprise—his face registered only shock and incredulity.

"You mean to say you've never been to a high-society party before?" Snape questioned, his eyes narrowing distrustfully.

"No…have you?" Lily returned uneasily, questioning whether or not she should have lied to him.

"_No_, certainly not!" Snape snapped rather harshly, offended by the very suggestion, "My family isn't noble or from money. My father, he's a…well, it doesn't matter, because you couldn't _pay me_ to attend one of those pretentious events, even if I _was_ of noble birth."

Lily blinked, aghast that Snape had revealed something private about himself. He seemed to realize how out-of-character he was acting and suddenly appeared flustered by his lack of usual control; Lily pounced on her opportunity to gain more information about him, "I can't say I blame you…but I'm sure not _everyone_ in attendance is that horrible?"

Snape scoffed, grimacing wryly: "I went to school for seven years with some of _fops_ you're about to meet, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that they only value money and status. Why would I waste my time listening to witches idly blather about irrelevant nonsense and wizards compare the size of their Gringott's vaults when I can dedicate it to attaining _true_ power?"

Lily's eyes reflected her uncertainty as she considered Snape's condemnation of the aristocracy. Thinking back on what Frank had told her, she guessed that years of being tormented by the noble students had rendered him hateful and bitter towards them. Although some of his comments appeared justified, Lily still felt uneasy about how passionate his loathing of them was.

_He's not alone in his feelings…James didn't seem to like the aristocracy, either…_

Then, just as suddenly as her previous revelations had struck her, another one came to her: _Oh my God…James is a lord…what if he was part of __**this**__ magical aristocracy? The same aristocracy that I have now been inducted into— _

—_Oh my god, the Gala!_

Panic swelled within Lily again as she realized that she was not only horribly late for her entrance with Dumbledore, but that Lord James Potter—who she now recognized was a wizard—might be a person known to many people in attendance at the Gala. Sweat beaded on her forehead as the enormity of her new discovery made her feel ill all over again.

Deep lines etched into Snape face as he cynically observed Lily's fresh anxiety, "I don't know what has you so unnerved that you're channelling your own magic into malady, Aurora, but you need to gain control of your emotions before you faint again."

Lily clutched at her chest as she breathed heavily, frustrated she was the cause of her own debility and that she was coming off as weak in front of Snape. She couldn't seem to get a handle on her terrified thoughts of James: "Can't you give me something, Professor? I have a duty to be at the Gala and I'm already so late…" Lily beseeched urgently, ignoring her sense of shame as she flashed Snape a slavishly imploring look and batted her innocent eyes in a way which—unbeknownst to her—he considered quite erogenous.

Snape growled in irritation, secretly trying to quell the sexual anticipation that was threatening to make his pants uncomfortably tighten. _If she wasn't wearing that dress it wouldn't be so hard to say no:_ "Next lesson you and I are going to work on controlling your powers, _understand_? You're a bloody nuisance to yourself and to others in this state—_Accio Calming Draught_!"

"_Thank you_, Professor! I promise I'll work harder to control my emotions…" Lily announced breathlessly as a small vile filled with bright orange liquid came zooming from the opposite end of the hallway and into Snape's outstretched hand. He reluctantly handed the potion over to Lily and frowned as she eagerly gulped down the entire mixture.

"You're lucky I happened to have made a cauldron of Calming Draught a few days ago. Don't think I'll so readily hand over my personal stores again, though." Snape warned the girl, stealthily nipping the empty bottle back from Lily once she was done with it, "That's two potions you've drunk in under an hour. I wouldn't have too many glasses of champagne on top of that, if I were you."

"I also drank a vile of pepper-up potion about an hour ago." Lily bit down on her lip, repressing a smile as Snape rolled his eyes dramatically; she was amazed at how tranquil she now felt and how clear and rational her thoughts had become. Compared to the panic that had plagued her only moments ago, the peacefulness that now enveloped her entire body like a warm blanket was absolute bliss.

_I'll deal with the James situation after the Gala. Perhaps I could tell Frank the entire story and enlist his help. It's going to be alright…_

"Well, I hope you enjoy the company of those arrogant, pig-headed, money-grubbing _numbskulls _downstairs." Snape drawled sarcastically, crossing his arms indignantly as he watched the beautiful brunette smooth the wrinkles in her dress, readying herself for departure.

Lily smiled serenely, unfazed by his negativity. Feeling extremely grateful for his help, Lily closed the distance between herself and Snape and—largely due to the effects of the potion—leaned in to peck him on the cheek. She chuckled merrily as his black eyes widened in a combination of shock and alarm and quickly turned away from him, heading for the moving staircases, "See you tomorrow, Professor! I won't forget what you've done for me tonight!"

As Lily left Snape alone to deal with his carnal distress, she wondered just how angry Frank and Dumbledore were going to be with her.

* * *

_6:30 p.m._

When Lily finally descended the magical moving staircase and entered the spacious Great Hall— enchantingly decorated with floating tapered candles, _real_ fluttering, silver-winged butterflies, and lilac and blue coloured flowers to match the party room—her heart skipped a beat: Dumbledore, handsomely draped in amethyst coloured-robes trimmed in gold, awaited her patiently before the gigantic, sealed Dining Hall, his serene gaze fixated on the Hogwarts crest emblazoned on the wooden entrance. From behind the double doors, Lily could hear a mixture of chatter, champagne and symphony—muffled sounds which indicated the Gala was already in full swing. Gulping back subdued agitation, she hurried towards Dumbledore, pulling at the folds of her dress to avoid tripping. Ever sanguine, he did not look up at her until she reached him.

"Good evening." Lily said shyly to Dumbledore, her expression ruefully-innocent.

Though he had never shown her any unkindness before, Lily had expected Dumbledore to be angry with her; however, instead of conveying resentment for her tardiness, the greying wizard offered her a genuine, good-natured smile, his demeanour serene, "Ah, there you are, my dear. Heavens, don't you look lovely? Madam Gladrags has certainly outdone herself this time."

_He's not even cross with me?_

"Oh…thank you!" Lily disbelievingly exclaimed, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment as his jaunty disposition made her feel even more ashamed of her delay, "Your robes are absolutely exquisite, Professor Dumbledore."

"_Uncle Albus_." Dumbledore reminded her cautiously, though he continued to beam at her, "And that's very kind of you to say. I chose a set of robes that matched my favourite pair of woollen socks."

Dumbledore pulled up the hem of his robes and flashed Lily a pair of deep burgundy socks, patterned with an assortment of Quidditch balls which zoomed and bounced along the knitted fabric exuberantly. She blinked a few times, biting back a grin; Dumbledore's eccentricity was both alarming and amusing.

Tearing her eyes away from his outlandish socks, Lily noticed the old wizard's wine-coloured robes looked nothing like the tailored tuxedo Frank wore. Made of crushed velvet, they flowed around him like a geisha's silk kimono, a braided, golden-haired rope cinching the expensive cloth around his midsection. Paired with his long, whitish beard and his oddly-shaped spectacles, Lily thought Dumbledore—quite unlike clean-cute Frank Longbottom—perfectly matched the fairy-tale imagining of a wizard.

"I apologize for my tardiness,_ Uncle Albus_." Lily attempted awkwardly, feeling absurd. Though Dumbledore and Frank had insisted upon using her fictional name ever since she had arrived at Hogwarts—citing the importance of habit and the danger of eavesdroppers—it still felt odd to be role-playing in private, "I wasn't feeling well, so I ran back upstairs to find a potion to calm my nerves."

"Yes, Frank informed me. Quite understandable…but are you sure you're feeling well enough to proceed?" Dumbledore inquired sympathetically, searching her from behind his moon-shaped spectacles.

"I feel perfectly fine now, thank you." Lily responded resolutely, determinedly ignoring the butterflies half-heartedly quivering in her stomach.

_I must focus on the here and now…push James to the back of my mind…_

"Splendid. Shall we make our appearance then, my dear?" Dumbledore inquired good-humouredly, offering his arm to Lily. Feeling an unexpected surge of trepidation, she accepted it; almost immediately, the Dining Hall's magnificent double-doors supernaturally swung open, revealing a glittering, unknown world to her…

Lily squinted as she took her first steps into the Hall with Dumbledore, light from the glorious chandelier and romantic floating candles bombarding her retinas. She looked around at the blurry crowd, trying to acclimatize to her surroundings, but was momentarily blinded by the brilliance of the overly-furbished landscape. She struggled to keep her facial expression even as the bustling noise of the Hall suddenly enveloped her and a booming voice—as pronounced and as startling as the ominous roar of a marine fog-horn—sounded from amongst the crowd of well-groomed guests, "MAY I PRESENT, LORD ALBUS WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE, SUPREME MUGWUMP OF THE INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS, CHIEF WARLOCK OF THE WIZGAMOT, AND HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY…ACCOMPANYING HIS ESTEEMED NIECE, LADY AURORA ROCKFORD."

Quite unexpectedly, a shower of magical silver sparks rained down from the ceiling—enchanted to reflect the blue twilight outside—and into the cheering crowd. Lily quailed, sure the hot sparks would singe the guests and their expensive outfits; however, just before they made contact, the flickers transformed into the same shiny butterflies she had glimpsed back in the Great Hall. As the guests _oohed_ and _awwed_, impressed by the dreamlike demonstration, Hogwarts ghosts—including Nearly Headless Nick—concurrently filtered into the Hall through the walls and collected on the stage that had been erected earlier that morning. The haunting tune Lily had heard Nick and the other ghosts practicing almost a month earlier proceeded to fill the glorious Hall.

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts!  
Teach us something, please!  
Whether we be old and bald,  
Or young with scabby knees—_

Affable applause erupted from the crowd as Lily's eyes finally adjusted to the dazzling environment. Her lips parted into a tremendous—albeit _fake_—smile when the ghosts finished their song and disappeared, for all eyes in the Hall turned to her and Dumbledore. As terrified chills, mostly deadened by the Snape's Calming Draught, crept up along her spine, she wracked her brain trying to remember all of Frank's suggestions: _Smile as brightly as you can when you enter. Carry yourself with an air of modest superiority._ _You want to come off as fabulously charming, the apple of Dumbledore's eye…a beautiful, charismatic girl with quiet wit, a humble demeanour and a high-class upbringing—a shining example of the Dumbledore name._

The chic crowd of guests parted as Lily and Dumbledore entered, their eyes following their every move as if they were royalty. Lily's introverted instincts screamed for her to escape, what felt like thousands of people watching her, but she couldn't flee—honour-bound to remain in the spot-light, smack dab in the middle of the aristocracy. She smiled courteously at the staring people she passed, reminding herself to keep eye contact rather than consider the floor shyly.

Once they reached the middle of the elaborate Hall, Dumbledore tastefully turned to face the growing number of guests and flashed his famous, secretive smile. He pressed his wand to his throat and proceeded to speak, his voice magically magnified, "Honoured guests: I would like to welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the 993rd Hogwarts Gala."

Decorous applause followed; Lily was smiling so hard her jaw ached.

"As most of you know, Hogwarts is a most spectacular magical school—an institution which churns out learned witches and wizards who, every day, spearhead new magical discoveries in their areas of study. Many members of our alumni have achieved great things within the magical community, their names forever remembered in our history books. It is therefore with great pleasure that I invite all of you—many of who are Hogwarts graduates—to take part in tonight's festivities and to celebrate those Hogwarts pupils who are currently excelling in their magical disciplines."

More applause erupted from the crowd; Lily willed herself not to turn pink as Dumbledore's attention suddenly shifted to her, "I would also like to take this moment to introduce someone very dear to my heart: my niece, Lady Aurora Rockford, who has kindly joined us here tonight all the way from the majestic country of Canada."

Even more applause ensued, though—unlike Dumbledore's previous announcement—Lily's bogus introduction garnered a few cheeky catcalls from the back of the crowd and prompted some of the older witches in attendance to whisper feverishly to one another. One sharply hissed to a friend, _"Since when does Dumbledore have a niece?"_, while another bitterly murmured, _"If I'd known Dumbledore had a niece I wouldn't have pushed Reginald to_ _marry that Clearwater girl so soon." _From the crowd's reaction, Lily gathered she was the new prize to be won; she hid her grimace when some of the younger men in the crowd competitively nudged one another following her introduction.

"Aurora will be staying at Hogwarts with me for the summer. Please join me in giving her a warm welcome tonight. Now, in closing, I would like to thank everyone in attendance tonight for their generous donations to the school. The students and teachers of Hogwarts are in your debt. So, with that being said, let the Gala commence!" Dumbledore announced confidently, withdrawing his wand from his throat and confidently brandishing it into the air.

As his words echoed across the dazzling Hall, a flock of stunning royal-blue parrots leapt from the end of his wand and stretched out their enormous wings, flying high above the delighted guests and out into the candle-lit gardens. In unison, house-elves dressed in black tuxedos popped into existence, carrying with them pewter trays filled with glasses of sparkling mimosas and lavish hors d'oeuvres. A small group of wizards and witches—dressed in eye-catching baby-blue robes—simultaneously climbed onto the stage and immediately struck up a jazzy number that melodically mingled with the rising noise of the crowd.

Lily sighed in respite, relieved most of the guests had busied themselves with snatching up flutes of champagne. Taking a deep breath and relaxing her strained smile, she scanned the crowd, wondering if Mimi was one of the house-elves serving drinks.

"Would Madam care for some dragon tar-tar?" a crotchety elf squeaked from below Lily, distracting her from her search.

Lily craned her neck, barely able to hear his shrill voice above the noise of the prattling congregation: "No…thank you," she responded anxiously, feeling queasy as she looked down at the round, greenish balls of what appeared to be cheese inelegantly lumped on the house-elf's platter.

"Probably for the best." Dumbledore soundlessly whispered to her as the house-elf departed, his eyes sparkling mischievously, "It tends to give one very bad breath…"

Scanning the crowd again, this time wondering where Frank was, Lily realized that a collection of individuals—many of whom were pointedly observed she and Dumbledore—were waiting patiently along the fringe of their bubble. Aware of their presence, Dumbledore turned his attention to one of the individuals in particular—a plump man with broad shoulders and narrow, determined eyes—and smiled: a sign that seemed to indicate the headmaster wanted him to approach, for the stalky wizard immediately leapt into action, a self-important grin transforming his mouth as he reached for Dumbledore's aged hand.

"Minister Spavin." Dumbledore lightly shook the rotund man's hand, smiling graciously, "So good of you to join us this evening. I'd like to introduce you to my niece, Lady Aurora Rockford—Aurora, this is the Minister for Magic, Lord Faris Spavin."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Minister." Lily said civilly, a tinge of sweetness in her voice. She suppressed a shiver when the public servant—whose head barely reached the top of her shoulder—grasped her hand and planted a whiskery, wet kiss on it.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Rockford." the Minister for Magic bumbled in a Yorkshire accent, struggling to keep his gaze away from her cleavage, her breasts being at eye-level, "How fine of you to join your uncle at Hogwarts."

Lily wrenched her hand out of his grasp as gently as she could manage; it took all her strength not to slap him across the face to correct his straying eyes, "Do indulge me: How long do you plan on staying in England? Do you plan on enrolling in Hogwarts in September?"

Before Lily could respond, Dumbledore effortlessly cut-in, "Though Aurora will be staying with me for the summer, she has yet to decide what she will do in the fall. I suggested a trip to the French Riviera…don't you think it would be lovely in the autumn, Minister?"

"Yes…yes certainly—I would imagine." Minister Spavin agreed sycophantically, lazily eyeing Lily as he took a sip from his champagne and shoved a ball of dragon tar-tar into his fuzzed mouth.

To Lily's immense relief, it wasn't long before Dumbledore found an excuse to dismiss the debauched Prime Minister, who—rather than talk about politics or Hogwarts—seemed sickeningly interested in her, and beckoned another individual towards them.

The next wizard, who looked to be in his late eighties, was dressed in an outfit very similar to Dumbledore's. He wore bizarre orange robes that tightly enfolded his pot belly and clumsily trailed behind him, and had a tuft of white hair that wound around the outside of his bald head like a friar's crown. As he maladroitly stumbled forward, a gleeful, toothy smile illuming his wrinkled face, Lily noticed his eyes were also slightly crossed.

Dumbledore leaned closer to Lily and quietly murmured, "An Order member."

"Albus!" Lord Elphias Doge chirruped brightly, extending a hand to Dumbledore, who shook it gladly, "What a marvellous party! You know, I look forward to the ghost choir every year!"

As Dumbledore smiled in reply, the strange wizard turned to Lily. He stared at her for a moment, soaking up her features, then—to her immense surprise—regarded her with undue affection, "And this must be the niece I've heard so little about. Really, Albus, how did you keep this darling girl a secret? You are just as beautiful as your mother, Arianna, Lady Rockford."

Lily's smile faltered as she was taken aback by the strange Order member's familiarity with Dumbledore. From what Frank had told her, not many people were well acquainted with the Dumbledore family. Most were unaware he had younger siblings at all—yet Elphias Doge was not only on a first name basis with Dumbledore, but professed to know his ailing sister…

"Thank you…that's very kind of you, Lord—?" Lily began quizzically.

"My apologies; Aurora, this is my oldest friend, Lord Elphias Doge. As boys we attended Hogwarts together and we've been good friends ever since." Dumbledore explained congenially, winking playfully at his counterpart, "I daresay Elphias knows me better anyone—except perhaps Alberforth."

"_Oh Aurora_, the stories I could tell you about your uncle!" Elphias chuckled gaily, his merriment contagious; Lily giggled, while Dumbledore's face shone with amusement, "Don't you let your Uncle Albus fool you into believing he was always well behaved in school: He was only clever enough never to get caught! I maintain to this day that I've never seen someone so skilled at disillusionment charms…"

As the old wizards chortled impishly, trading school-boy tales from their youth, Lily felt a familiar hand slide across her waist and warm breath press against her ear. As Frank Longbottom leaned into her hair and whispered to her coyly, shivers cascaded down her bare back, "Aiming for a fashionably-late appearance, were we?"

Instinctually, Lily moved to grasp Frank's hand, his sarcastic presence immediately comforting her— quashing her sense of isolation, though she was standing in the middle of a busy room, "Unexpected delay—I'll tell you about it later."

"But are you alright?" Frank inquired covertly, regarding her with eyes that failed to mirror his smooth, unaffected expression; a mask for onlookers.

"Perfect. I promise." Lily returned with quiet firmness, momentarily looking away from him and noticing how many guests had turned to gawk at their discreet exchange, "What took you so long to get here?"

"Rules of etiquette." Frank murmured, also taking note of the amount of people who had stopped—mid-conversation—to stare at them, "I'm technically not supposed to join you until Dumbledore has introduced you to my parents, but they're next in cue—_ah_, good evening Lord Dumbledore, Lord Doge…"

Lily watched as Frank formally shook hands with Dumbledore and carried on a conversation which—she eventually realized—was meant to disguise both her identity from eavesdroppers and the group's secret relations within the Order of the Phoenix. Listening to their exchanges, Lily found the amount of acting to be quite dizzying.

"How wonderful to see you again, Lord Longbottom." Dumbledore began ceremoniously, his smile clandestine, "You remember Lord Doge, I presume?"

"Yes, of course. How do you do this evening, Lord Doge?" Frank questioned courteously, bowing slightly, though his hand still firmly grasped Lily's.

A well-known Order acquaintance of Frank's, Elphias grinned puckishly when he noticed Lily and Frank's entwined hands. He looked to Dumbledore, as if waiting for him to protectively react and break up the pair, and then back to Frank, "I'm doing well, thank you, Lord Longbottom. The evening is shaping up to be a lovely one! But how are you? Anything particularly _new_ with you?"

Elphias stared pointedly at their hands, his cheeks dimpling; Frank struggled not to roll his eyes: "How very perceptive of you. I suppose you could say I'm keeping some new company," Frank returned slyly, looking down at Lily and winking handsomely. She blushed.

"So it would seem…" Elphias returned, amused by Frank's expert reaction and Lily's meekness.

Suddenly, two strikingly-attired guests—a tall, gangly wizard in a beautifully-crafted tuxedo and a short, stern-looking witch festooned in a flaming cerise gown—approached the group. As they neared, Lily immediately suspected they were Frank's parents, for he shared the adult wizard's sturdy build and the witch's fair colouring. She breathed deeply, reminding herself to remain calm as Frank's hand tensed anxiously in hers.

"Augusta, Lyndon…how lovely of you to come." Dumbledore greeted warmly when the stately couple arrived, shaking Lord Longbottom's hand and kissing the top of Lady Longbottom's, "I must thank you both for your overly-generous donation to Hogwarts this year; your liberality never seems to fail."

"As always, it was our pleasure. You know how much we adore Hogwarts, Dumbledore." Augusta returned curtly, quickly greeting Elphias—who hung around like a lost puppy—before turning to scrutinize Lily and Frank, "I believe introductions are in order, Frank."

Frank straightened up and cleared his throat. Though he acted rather rigidly in the presence of his mother, Lily could hardly blame him; the sheer austerity emanating from the small woman was quite frightening: "Mother, Father…this is Lady Aurora Rockford, daughter of Lord Dumbledore's sister, Lady Arianna Rockford, and her late husband, Lord Aquarius Rockford."

Lady Longbottom briefly bowed her head in response, while quiet Lord Longbottom extended his hand and feebly kissed the top of Lily's, "Aurora, this is my mother and father, Lady Augusta Longbottom and Lord Lyndon Longbottom."

Lily curtsied respectfully, attempting to hide the intimidation Lady Longbottom inspired within her: "It's so lovely to finally meet you both. I've heard so much about you from Frank—"

"Have you now? _Curious_, considering Frank has never once mentioned _you_ before, Lady Rockford. Either—might I add—has your uncle." Lady Longbottom pointed out rather brazenly, her hawkish eyes trained on Lily, who tried not to quiver wimpishly "Do tell, Frank: Exactly when did you first meet Lady Rockford? How long have you known each other? I gather from the way you two are…_interacting_, this isn't your first meeting."

"You're quite right, Mother. I met Aurora almost a month ago, when she first arrived at Hogwarts. I had to consult with Dumbledore on a Ministry matter and I coincidentally ran into her." Frank explained rather mechanically, though Lily thought he sounded convincing, "We exchanged letters for a few weeks before I asked Dumbledore's permission to court her."

He turned to Lily and smiled sweetly to solidify his newfound "love" for her; she smiled back, well aware that he was a more persuasive performer than she was.

"Is that so—coincidence you say?—well, if that's the case, why am I only hearing of Lady Rockford _now_?" Lady Longbottom abruptly demanded, though a little less waspishly: Lily guessed she was unhappy about learning of their courtship at the same time as the rest of society.

"You cannot blame Frank, Augusta." Dumbledore cut in charmingly, flashing Lady Longbottom a charismatic smile, "You see, I asked Frank to refrain from telling anyone of Aurora. I wanted to give her the chance to adjust to Hogwarts before reporters and photographers descended upon her. It was with this stipulation that I agreed to Frank's proposal of courtship. Surely you can understand how persistent the media can be?"

Lady Longbottom paused for a moment, her eyes shrewdly darting between Dumbledore, Frank and Lily. Lily could tell she was an exceptionally clever witch; the kind who wasn't easily fooled. A strange sense of admiration swelled within her for the haughty noblewoman.

"We are a very loyal family, Dumbledore; we would've respected your wishes to keep Aurora a secret—" Lady Longbottom proclaimed proudly, subtly chastising Dumbledore for not trusting in them, "—but I understand you were trying to protect your niece. Reporters can be absolute _vultures_. That awful _Skeeter_ woman is the worst! You should have seen the contrived piece she wrote about my family in the _Prophet_ a few years back—absolute _rubbish_.I daresay the media shall have a field day, now that you've presented Aurora to high society."

"Yes…like it or not, keeping her name out of the papers will be quite impossible now." Dumbledore affirmed, plucking a champagne glass from a tray-wielding house-elf and offering it to Lady Longbottom, "I wanted to prolong the inevitable for as long as I could."

"Well, it seems my son has just thrust himself into the middle of this foreseeable media circus." Lady Longbottom commented wryly, smirking for the first time that night as she took a sip from her flute.

"Frank's smart—smart enough to capture Lady Rockford's heart before she was presented to society and positively bombarded by male suitors." Lord Longbottom finally spoke up, his tone conveying amusement; Lily had forgotten he was standing with them, his presence completely eclipsed by that of his dynamic wife's.

"Oh, I don't know about that…" Lily whispered unpretentiously, flushing.

"You're being modest, Lady Rockford. You are a beautiful young girl from a prestigious family—who wouldn't jump at the opportunity to have you on their arm? I bet you've inherited some of your uncle's intelligence, too." Lord Longbottom winningly praised Lily, earning a smile of agreement from both Dumbledore and Frank.

"Thank you for saying so. It seems you are as generous with your compliments as you are with your charity, Lord Longbottom." Lily delivered charismatically, smiling prettily; Frank squeezed her hand, communicating his approval.

"You'll be having Aurora over for dinner next week, won't you, Frank?" Lady Longbottom more commanded than requested, Lord Longbottom fading into the background once more.

"Y-Yes, naturally!" Frank agreed, unable to hide his bewilderment; his stumble made him uncharacteristically redden, "_Er_—that is, if Lord Dumbledore allows Aurora to take a night off from her rigorous studies?"

"Certainly." Dumbledore beamed cheerfully.

"And of course, you are invited too, Lord Dumbledore—though I know how busy your schedule must be." Lady Longbottom continued politely, her brisk tone indicating that, contrary to her dismissal, she would be quite offended by his refusal.

"I would be simply delighted."

"Really? _Excellent_. I'll owl you the details next week." Lady Longbottom vivified with Dumbledore's acceptance and, for the first time, regarded Lily with enthusiasm, "I look forward to learning more about you, Lady Rockford."

"And I you." Lily returned harmoniously, graciously curtsying as Frank's hold on her tightened and he began dragging her away from the group of mature wizards.

"This calls for a glass of champagne! Shall we, Aurora?"

Dumbledore winked impishly as Lily turned away from him and followed Frank through the bustling crowd of party-goers. Many people greeted them as they walked, a couple shouting "Frank, old boy!", but they did not stop to chat, Frank intent on locating a quieter spot to talk privately. Upon finding an empty patch of dance-floor not far from a buffet table which housed multiple magical delicacies, including kelpie caviar, chizpurfle canapés, pixies-in-a-blanket and stuffed fire crab, Frank procured two glasses of champagne and toasted Lily.

"Your mother is undoubtedly a force to be reckoned with." Lily smirked teasingly, taking only a small sip from her flute, per Snape's instructions.

"I know she's tough, but once you get to know her—" Frank started defensively.

"She's wonderful." Lily interrupted kindly, stopping his defense mid-sentence, "I imagined all society women to be prissy and meek, but she's the very opposite. Assertive, strong-willed, clever…"

Lily could tell her assessment had pleased Frank, "You know, she's never invited any of my girlfriends 'round for dinner before…yet, upon meeting you, it was practically the first thing to come out of her mouth. I could tell she was pleased when Dumbledore accepted her dinner invitation, too." Frank laughed to himself, shaking his head in ridiculous disbelief, "She's never been the type to drop names or rub elbows with the richest or most famous families, but she'll be sure to let everyone know you two will be over for dinner. She really respects Dumbledore."

"Seems like everyone does. I'm sure your mother only likes me because I'm Dumbledore's niece, though." Lily pointed out, finding the thought to be strangely depressing.

Before Frank could rebuff her, two fetching young wizards with identical red-haired features approached them from the dance-floor, a pretty young witch following in their wake. As the small group neared, Frank's eyes clouded with an indiscriminate emotion, his gaze fixated on the lovely appearance of the yellow-haired witch. Lily frowned, perplexed, when his hand slackened and wordlessly slipped out of hers.

"Evening, Frank." Lord Fabian Prewett greeted nonchalantly, extending a hand toward Frank and shaking it firmly. After the brief exchange his gaze befell Lily; however, unlike Minister Spavin, she could tell the stern wizard was scrutinizing her out of curiosity, rather than desire.

"Fabian, Gideon." Frank responded very casually, shaking the second brother's hand. Once the youthful witch had arrived at the twins' side, Frank cleared his throat and bowed, taking the dainty girl's hand and kissing it lightly, "It's wonderful to see you again, Lady Prewett."

"_Frank Longbottom_, how many times must I insist you call me Alice?" Lady Alice Prewett inquired good-naturedly, smiling blithely at him once he straightened up from his bow and met her vast hazel eyes.

In stark contrast to her redheaded cousins, Lady Alice Prewett had long, curly-blonde hair, round, inquisitive eyes and a tiny, lovable gap between her two front teeth. Substantially shorter than Lily was, she wore a form-fitting pale pink dress with a sweatheart neckline and a full, layered skirt—a dress which Lily thought accentuated her petit figure.

"I apologize…your beauty must have distracted my thoughts." Frank smiled handsomely, charming as ever. Though he often came off as insufferably arrogant, it occurred to Lily that he acted much more bashfully than usual.

_Interesting…_

While Lady Alice Prewett blushed modestly in response to Frank's affectionate gaze, Lord Fabian Prewett routinely bowed toward Lily and kissed her hand, Lord Gideon Prewett quickly following suit. Lily smiled pleasantly, observing the brothers carefully as she waited for Frank to provide introductions. Whereas Fabian Prewett appeared rather business-like, his perceptive eyes inexhaustibly trained on her face, Gideon Prewett seemed relatively non-pulsed, his carefree gaze roaming about the room imperviously as he popped a pixie-in-a-blanket into his mouth and drowned the rest of his champagne glass.

As the group lapsed into silence, Lily raised an eyebrow and finally spoke up, breaking Frank and Lady Alice Prewett from their wordless exchange, "We'd appreciate introductions at some point, Frank."

Frank blinked and looked at Lily guiltily, realizing his neglect, "Of course, how rude of me. Aurora, may I introduce Lord Fabian Prewett, Lord Gideon Prewett and Lady Alice Prewett. As I'm sure you can tell, Fabian and Gideon are brothers, while Alice is their cousin—"

"It's lovely to meet you all." Lily said kindly, offering Lady Prewett a friendly smile. Though she returned it sweetly, the blonde witch's face faltered slightly as she watched Frank loop his hand with Lily's once again.

"—Fabian, Gideon, Alice…this is Lady Aurora Rockford, Dumbledore's niece." Frank announced formally, turning to Lily and offering her a redemptive glance, "As I'm sure you heard, she'll be staying with Dumbledore for the summer—"

"Living at Hogwarts?" Fabian piped up in interest, his tone simmering with grim inquisitiveness.

"Yes. I'm temporary inhabiting a dormitory room in Gryffindor Tower, actually." Lily explained conversationally, attempting to shift the tone of the formal conversation, "It has a beautiful view of the Great Lake."

At the mention of Gryffindor Tower, Gideon's face brightened considerably, "We were in Gryffindor, Fabian and I. Alice is going into her 7th year of Hogwarts—she's in Gryffindor, too."

"Really? That would make us about the same age then, Lady Prewett." Lily said cordially, wishing she could release Frank's hand to alleviate the tension in the girl's lovely face, "What area of study are you specializing in? I hear there are some wonderful program choices."

"I'm in the Fine Arts program: It covers everything from dance, to music, to drawing." Alice explained patiently, taking a sip from her champagne and instantly becoming more bubbly; Lily guessed she had a low tolerance for alcohol, "I really enjoy my program, especially the dance classes. Hogwarts is wonderful…but where do you go to school, Lady Rockford? I've not familiar with any Canadian schools."

"I've never attended school. My mother privately tutors me." Lily clarified effortlessly, having rehearsed the explanation with Frank hundreds of times, "I do envy you for having the chance to attend Hogwarts."

"Isn't that interesting?" Alice chirruped lightly, genuinely intrigued, "Your mother sounds very dedicated! I daresay mine wouldn't have the patience to teach me. All the same, had you attended Hogwarts, what area of study do you think you would've specialized in, Lady Rockford?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts." Lily replied automatically: She immediately realized how preposterous she must have sounded, for Fabian's eyes flew open in alarm and Alice squeaked in response. Just as Gideon was about to lapse into a fit of laughter, Frank—who was discreetly glaring at her—made a smooth recovery.

"Isn't she a laugh?" Frank chortled loudly, draping his arm around Lily's shoulders. She yelped in response to his subtle pinch and—noticing his maniacally threatening smile—instantaneously burst into a sickeningly-fake bout of girlish laughter, "Fabian, your face was absolutely priceless!"

Believing Lily had made a joke they had gullibly bought into, the Prewetts' laughter mingled with Frank and Lily's phony hilarity, causing many snooty guests to regard them jealously, "Of course, Aurora would have specialized in dance like you, Alice. Isn't that right?"

Ashamed by her blunder, Lily simply nodded cooperatively, silently wishing the prospect of women studying Defence Against the Darks Arts was not such a laughable matter.

As the group continued to chat—Frank and Lady Alice Prewett discussing a Celestina Warbeck song and Lords Fabian and Gideon Prewett relaying tales of the Forbidden Forest to Lily—a darker-clad couple cunningly approached them, their ashen faces glowing with prideful conceit. Engrossed in Gideon's grizzly retelling of the legend of the ashwinder, Lily did not realize something was amiss until Frank's grip on her hand tightened and Fabian's razor-sharp gaze narrowed on a spot over her shoulder.

"Well, well, well…so this is the new _debutant_ everyone's in a tizzy about."

A chill crept down Lily's spine when the voice reverberated against her ear drums. Her muscles seized up, making her uncomfortably stiffen, and undeniable fear slide down her back, cooling her blood whilst simultaneously burning her cheeks, as if they had been pressed against dry ice. As she slowly turned to meet the pompous caller, unconsciously digging her nails into Frank's flesh, memories from the night two masked death eaters had come looking for her at St. Madeline's resurfaced…

When Lily's light eyes finally met Lord Lucius Malfoy's cunning black ones, she was convinced beyond a reasonable doubt he was the cruel-voiced, silver-haired death eater she had seen disapparate from the grounds of St. Madeline's nearly a month earlier. Though she instinctually felt like running, the very same instincts caused her to plaster a defiant smile onto her lips—a smile that challenged his noble arrogance with her own. Though she knew the slightest error in her disguise could cause her demise, she couldn't bear to act meek or timid in his presence.

"That's hardly a polite greeting, Malfoy." Frank replied brusquely as he, Lily, Fabian, Gideon and Alice turned to acknowledge Lord Lucius Malfoy and Lady Narcissa Black.

"How did that old rule go? Oh yes: _Do not speak unless you have been spoken to._ Do me a favour and give that a try, Longbottom." Lord Lucius Malfoy said flippantly, disregarding Frank completely and fixing his malicious eyes on Lily. She simply stared back at him, expressionless, though survival impulses bubbled within her. Malfoy turned to his gala date, "Narcissa, won't you introduce us? You have, after all, met society's newest _celebrity_."

_Fucking death eater asshole._

Lily's blasé gaze, which disguised her hatred, shifted to the beautiful, stick-thin witch clutching Malfoy's arm: Narcissa Black, the very same noblewoman she had met in Madam Gladrags weeks ago. Still defined by her poker-straight blonde hair and self-righteous sneer, Narcissa wore a tight black gown that clung hungrily to her hips and legs and pooled near her feet. Her dress had a sharp, off-the-shoulder neckline that hid her small breasts and split along the back, revealing her protruding shoulder blades, and a modest train. With her hair slicked back into a taut bun, her silvery eyes emphasized with black eyeliner, and her dress constricting her frail body in a morbid cocoon, Lily thought Narcissa resembled a black-widow rearing to bite her mate's head off…

_Well aren't they perfect for each other? A bitch and a murderer's lackey._

Doing as she was told, Narcissa launching into a smooth—albeit terse—introduction, "Lucius, this is Lady Aurora Rockford, Dumbledore's newest _pet-project_, no doubt—"

Lily was amazed by how outright rude both Narcissa and Lucius were: Like Acantha, they both seemed to believe they were better than everyone else and therefore possessed the right to say whatever they liked without consequence.

"—Aurora, this is Lord Lucius Malfoy, sole male heir to the prestigious House of Malfoy. Though I'm sure you're _well aware_, the Malfoys are one of the most powerful wizarding families in England."

"If you don't start showing some respect—" Frank growled deeply, gritting his teeth at their attempt to belittle both himself and Lily.

Before Frank could continue, Lily interrupted, her eyes narrowing determinedly and a devilish smile flickering onto her face, "Heir to the House of Malfoy? How very interesting! It's strange though; for such a purportedly _powerful _family, the Malfoys don't particularly make a splash in _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_, do they, _Lucius_? I don't even think the Malfoy family made the footnotes…"

With Lily's biting statement came a series of diverse reactions: Frank's jaw dropped, nearly unhinged from his skull; Gideon snorted into his champagne glass loudly, startling Fabian and causing him to accidentally slop his drink all over his white dress-shirt; Alice—unable to stifle her giggles—had to take refuge behind Gideon; Narcissa's face turned so red it looked like lava was about to erupt from the top of her head and spray out of every orifice on her face; Lucius looked so irate it appeared he couldn't form words, his mouth merely opening and closing like a wind-up toy.

Though Malfoy appeared on the brink of strangulation, Lily persisted, pretending to be unaware of the commotion she was causing, "Now the Blacks, on the other hand, have a few chapters devoted to their family in the book. Your family in particular has a _fascinating_ history, Lady Black."

Narcissa glared, though Lily's half-compliment seemed to have roused some of her pride, "_I should think so_. The Blacks are one of the oldest pureblood wizarding families in Europe—"

"Quite right! You know, one of my _favourite_ chapters in that book is the one about how frequently the Black family turns to _inbreeding_. That explains a lot, don't you think, Frank?" Lily quipped smoothly, offering Lucius and Narcissa an insolent, superior smile while Frank, Gideon, Fabian and Alice burst into unceremonious laughter around her, "You two look quite alike actually; are you attempting to keep alive the incestuous family traditions?"

While Malfoy and Narcissa boiled over with rage, their pallid faces turning every colour in the rainbow, Lily took notice of a tall, handsome boy filling his plate up with chizpurfle canapés at buffet table. His slicked back hair was black in colour, his eyes brown with flecks of green. When he looked up and returned Lily's inquiring gaze, she wondered who it was she thought he so closely resembled…

Her attention abruptly snapped back to Lucius as, in a fit of rage and humiliation, he unearthed his wand from his robes. Quite suddenly, Frank's hand slipped out of Lily's and his wand appeared threateningly at his side, pointed toward the ground so the surrounding guests took no notice. Fabian's hand curled around Lily's arm and subtly pushed her behind him as he and Gideon stepped forward, flanking Frank. Surprised by the turn of events, Lily and Alice eyed one another in astonishment, both shocked by how intensely Frank glowered at Lucius.

"Make so much as one wand movement and I'll have you locked up so fast you won't be able to say '_Azkaban'_." Frank warned Lucius quietly, his blue eyes utterly scathing.

"I think your little _whore_ should be taught some _respect_, Longbottom." Malfoy spat furiously, his serpentine voice barely audible above the music in the hall, "I think a few rounds of the _Cruiciatus Curse_ might do it."

"_What did you just call her?" _Frank stepped forward aggressively, the veins in his arms bulging.

"_Let's go_, Lucius." Narcissa suddenly hissed, her voice commanding as she tugged on Lucius' arm before he could advance, "Dumbledore is on his way over. Upset his little_ princess_ or her _knight in rusty armour _and you'll get me expelled—"

"More like his face kicked-in." Gideon offhandedly pointed at Malfoy, causing Narcissa to glare daggers at him.

Begrudgingly, Malfoy pocketed his hand and took Narcissa's hand, pulling her away from the scene. As he passed by Lily their eyes met; she maintained an even face when he stopped to momentarily whisper to her, ever so sweetly, "I'd be careful if I were you, Lady Rockford. You won't always have your uncle to protect you."

The group surrounding Lily scowled fiercely as Malfoy stalked away in defeat. She bit down on her lower lip, beginning to realize how ridiculously she had acted. She was unsure what exactly had possessed her to act so rashly: Rather than acting meek and humble, she had outright insulted both Lord Lucius Malfoy, a death eater who was unknowingly on the hunt for _her_, and his girlfriend, Lady Narcissa Black, a member of the most powerful wizarding family in Europe. Most extraordinarily, her impulsive actions had nearly resulted into a wand battle…

"That was so brave of you…" Alice breathed, the first to break the silence that had overcome the group of young witches and wizards. Lily turned to her and weakly smiled; she wasn't sure how it had happened, but she and Alice were holding hands, "If you were sorted you'd definitely be put in Gryffindor…"

"Was it bravery I just demonstrated, or just plain stupidity?" Lily echoed hollowly, looking to Frank; his expression was unreadable.

"Stupidity perhaps, but you were _brilliant_." Gideon stressed eagerly, a grin cracking his lips as enthusiasm poured out of him, "You're a firecracker, Lady Rockford. It isn't everyday someone puts the Malfoy family in their place…_b__loody idiots_, the lot of 'em."

"Thank you." Lily laughed hesitantly.

"If you hadn't noticed, Gideon is quite impressed by you." Fabian commented, a wry smile creeping onto his face, "Have you really read _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_?"

"I've read the first couple chapters, but it was so dreadfully boring I stopped." Lily explained, Fabian, Gideon and Alice's amusement contagiously plastering a grin across her face, "I certainly had them convinced though, didn't I?"

Frank, whose face remained indecipherable, fell into position beside Lily and slipped his hand around hers as Dumbledore approached, a chorus of witches and wizards following in his wake, "Ah, there you are, my dear! The dancing is about to begin: Why don't you and Frank get into position for the opening number?"

After bidding adieu to Fabian, Gideon and Alice, Frank carefully lead Lily to the middle of the marble dance-floor where the other young couples were assembling. Lily thought Snape's potion had begun to wear off, her nerves becoming more pronounced and her hands more jittery. She placed one hand over Frank's shoulder and folded the other in his hand, positioning herself for the dance. She watched as his eyes darting about the room, searching, and anxiously commanded his attention.

"Would you _please_ just tell me how badly I messed up?" Lily whispered in Frank's ear, trying to keep her features calm as the dance-floor became more crowded.

"Royally." Frank whispered back, finally looking down at her and frowning unhappily, "As much as I enjoyed the spectacle, you've already made two high-profile members of society your enemies. Even worse, they are both suspected of being in connection with You-Know-Who."

Lily's stomach knotted uncomfortably as Frank affirmed what she already knew.

"Frank…?"

"If they are associating with the Dark Lord, they'll naturally be against Dumbledore—and you by extension—anyway, but still, it was probably unwise…" Frank murmured dolefully, placing his arm on Lily's hip as he continued to frantically ramble, "Gideon was right; you are a firecracker. I appreciate you defending me, but you must remember it's _my_ job to defend _you_."

"Frank…?"

"I suppose you didn't _really_ do any harm…I mean, what's Malfoy going to do? Curse you in public? At least that little display helped you to win over Fabian and Gideon—they are both Order members, by the way—but _Merlin_, what must Alice think of me now, after I let you defend me like that…?"

"_Frank_!" Lily susurrated, interrupting his nervous blathering, "_It's worse than you think_."

"What do you mean, '_worse'_?" Frank immediately stiffened, going quiet.

"It's Malfoy…he's one of the death eaters that came after me the night before I escaped." Lily whispered feverishly into Frank's ear, careful to keep her voice down; anyone who was watching them would've thought they were sharing a flirtatious secret, "The death eater that got away…I recognize his voice, Frank. It's definitely him."

As Frank's eyes widened in distress, music from the stage began drifted onto the floor and the gathered couples began to dance to a jazzy, upbeat tune—"That Old Black Magic" by Margaret Whiting. Frank and Lily automatically began to dance, the fanciful moves second nature to them as they had practiced multiple times together. Their intense eyes, filled with the consequential 'what ifs', never left each other's.

* * *

_9 p.m._

Half-drunk, Sirius Black slipped into the Great Hall, his presence unnoticed as most of the guests had collected on the dance-floor to sway to the first big-band tune of the night. Batting a silver butterfly away from his face in annoyance and almost tripping over a house-elf, Sirius snatched up two glasses of champagne and collapsed into a chair at an empty table, his bow-tie askew. After drowning the first glass he looked up at the posh crowd, searching for a recognizable face. Though his vision was blurred, he noticed Frank Longbottom dancing in the middle of the floor with a pretty girl in a vibrant purple dress.

_I wonder who she is…_

He hardly cared. James was leaving for Australia in three hours.

* * *

Author's Notes

An 18,000 word climax chapter. That is all.

**Please review!**

pratty-prongs-princesse

http:/ petalintherainstory. yolasite. com/


	23. Chapter 23

P E T A L I N T H E R A I N

* * *

Chapter 23—The Equinox

"_I'm always in this twilight…in the shadow of your heart."_

-Florence and the Machine

* * *

_9:30 p.m._

Ballroom music swelled like a sleeping tidal wave, the blood-rushing sound of drums spilling mercilessly onto the Dining Hall's marble dance-floor. There—amidst the beautiful rumbles and trills of the commanding harmony—Lily danced helplessly, aware that a death eater dangerously cavorted a mere stone-throw away. As the tormenting bolero gradually amplified, slick bows awakening to glide across oiled violin frames, sheer panic distended in her chest, the low, menacing growl of the death eater's voice the solitary melody propelling her feet forward.

"_I'd be careful if I were you, Lady Rockford. You won't always have your uncle to protect you…"_

Beyond the constant, rhythmic beat of the band's bass instruments, the steady tinkering of a concert grand piano resonated, soft and poignant enough to silence the crowd that had begun to collect around the whimsical dancers. The gentle toying of the keys mingled with the shadows of the night Lily would never forget; the night Lucius Malfoy had entered her room, ever so quietly, intent on abducting her. Eerily vivid, she could still recall his boots chillingly crunching against the broken glass scattered across the attic floor—the devastated fragments of the protective locket her murdered parents had left her as a child.

_"The Dark Lord will not be pleased. He expected to have the girl by tonight. He has been waiting to find her for a long time…"_

Lily squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, suppressing an unnervingly shiver. She had barely eluded Malfoy and Wilkes that night; yet now she danced mere metres away from one of the deadly men who had since beleaguered her nightmares, her delicately-woven disguise dangling before her on the end of a silken thread…

_"We'll have the nuns hand her over to us; no one will even notice her missing…"_

'Lucius Malfoy'…a name Lily had locked away in her subconscious along with the other disturbing memories of that fateful day…

_"MALFOY! SHE'S DOWN HERE, SHE'S—"_

Lily awoke from her bone-chilling stupor when Frank suddenly dipped her elegantly toward the floor, the song's crescendo filling the Hall—which was slowly beginning to seep back into her focus. Without even realizing it, she and Frank had been moving in perfect sync with one another, rising and falling in unison with the musician's haunting composition. Though they had not kept eye contact, both too distracted by grave thoughts of dark wizards, they had unwittingly moved across the dance-floor, Frank lifting Lily at the correct intervals and Lily twirling on cue. Unbeknownst to them, guests had watched their tantalizing dance in wonderment, feasting their greedy eyes upon society's newest power couple…

Gleeful cheers and enthusiastic applause erupted from the crowd as the young dancers gracefully performed their finishing steps, winding down into poised, articulate positions once the music concluded. After a moment's pause, Frank straightened up from his dance pose, sweeping Lily upright with him. They locked eyes for a brief moment, each communicating their apprehension as the ovation rose up around them like thunder.

"_Bravo_! Let us give our young _danseurs_ another round of applause!" Dumbledore's ripened voice echoed across the elaborately festooned Hall, closely followed by cheers and handclapping.

Feeling disjointed—Dumbledore's voice like an otherworldly hymn—Lily was lifted from her fearful lethargy by the stern sound of Frank's voice: "Aurora…I must speak to Dumbledore about Malfoy. Go request another glass of champagne for yourself; I'll meet you across the room in ten minutes. _Stay as far away from Malfoy as possible._"

Aware that he was ordering rather than requesting her to do as she was told, Lily merely nodded quietly, her mind still elsewhere. Frank bowed toward her, kissing her hand as etiquette required, and whispered urgently, "Promise me you'll keep out of trouble?"

Lily blinked languidly, the sense of foreboding festering in the pit of her stomach deepening as Frank's fingers slipped out of her grasp. She looked up into Frank's worried face and blankly nodded: "Yes—of course."

Unconvinced, Frank stopped Lily before she could turn away from him, placing a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. Quiet desperation reflected behind her neutral eyes; she yearned for escape from the hustle and bustle of the gala, agitation and fear impelling her toward tears.

"What is it, Frank?"

"I just wanted to say…that…that you danced beautifully tonight." The blonde lord unexpectedly whispered in Lily's ear, the warmth of his breath causing shivers to run down her neck.

As he pulled back to look at her, his hand tenderly resting on her face, Lily's stomach dropped; his cerulean eyes communicated subdued worry, unparalleled bravery, and another indescribable emotion—a pale imitation of the passion she had once seen reflected in the eyes of the only man she had ever loved…

Frozen in disbelief, Lily suspended all movement as Frank unpredictably bridged the space between them and softly pressed his lips to her's. Torn between horror and pleasure, Lily reflexively closed her eyes and allowed him to gently caress her lips with his own, remaining ever still as he chastely lingered on her mouth before breaking away. A blush crept to her cheeks as he retracted and intently watched for her reaction, his lips swollen from the exchange. Realizing she had to remain in character due to the setting, Lily managed a meek smile—an expression which did not accurately represent the irrefutable guilt that was suddenly parasitizing in her gut.

"I'll be right back..._be safe_." Frank whispered seriously, his eyes brimming with unresolved desire as he furtively let Lily go and disappeared into the surrounding crowd of tuxedos.

_I told you I'd wait for you, James. I'm sorry…_

* * *

_9:30 p.m._

"_Merlin_, Black—you're only _four hours late!_" Fabian Prewett growled in annoyance as he and his twin brother, Gideon, sank into gold-covered chairs at Sirius' empty table.

Sirius—who had drunkenly laid his dishevelled head to rest on the immaculately set table, his fingers still clasped around the stem of a half-finished champagne glass—inelegantly bolted into an upright position, startled from his alcoholic blitz. Tiredly rubbing at his tender eyes, he offered Fabian an inebriated smirk, too tipsy to care about the red head's patronizing tone.

"Ah, it's _you_ _two_ again. As I said before, it's called being _fashionably late_, Prewett." Sirius announced irritably, blearily clambering to his feet: Fabian and Gideon warily arose as well, regarding him as if he were a howler on the verge of explosion "What've I missed? Has anyone flashed about their dark mark yet? Shall I perform a _citizen's arrest—?_"

"_Would you keep your voice down_?" Fabian hissed angrily, his face beginning to match the colour of his fiery hair. He stepped closer to Sirius, his eyes threateningly boring into him, "If you're too drunk to carry out your mission, _Black_, then you'd best go home. The Order doesn't need a _fool_ like you endangering everything we've worked so hard to achieve."

Sirius rolled his eyes at Fabian's attempt at authority and comically leaned into Gideon, the more laid-back of the two brothers: "Looks like your brother is gunning for Dumbledore's job, eh Gideon? You can tell he was a prefect in his school days. Question is: Do you really think Fabian can pull off those _star-spangled magenta robes_ our dear headmaster often wears?"

Following Gideon's snorts of amusement, applause flared from the crowd that had collected around the glorious dance floor, interrupting Fabian's glowers and tearing Sirius' clouded attention away from the twins. As his chestnut eyes roamed the assembly of well-dress guests, Sirius begrudgingly noticed his snobbish cousin, Lady Narcissa Black, and his conceited brother, Lord Regulus Black, amongst the young dancers gathered in the middle of the floor. He grunted humorously when he noticed his brother's dance partner—Lady Violetta Bulstrode—well aware that Regulus had been forced to escort the pig-faced girl to the Gala by his parents.

_That's what you get for kissing mummy and daddy's arse, dear brother…_

Previous argument aside, Fabian and Gideon quietly fell into step with Sirius' watchful gaze, all three wizards carefully surveying the effervescent gathering. Sobered by the sight of his not-so-beloved family members, Sirius pulled a flask of pepper-up potion from his suit jacket and downed the contents. As the minty-flavoured liquid seeped into his stomach and caused his legless vision to suddenly clear, his eyes happened to befall the same purple-clad girl he had witnessed dancing with Frank Longbottom earlier that evening…

"Malfoy, Rosier and Rowle are all here. No sign of Lestrange—although we didn't think he'd show his face in society again after Remus unmasked him during that skirmish a few weeks back. Intelligence has reported that his estate has been abandoned. We assume he's living alongside He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now." Fabian mumbled to Sirius, catching a whiff of his flask and visibly relaxing.

"Bella must be _thrilled_." Sirius muttered acrimoniously, folding his arms and popping a chizpurfle canapé into his mouth as a house-elf wielding a tray walked by. He frowned as he chewed, his gradually sobering mind resentfully returning to thoughts of James leaving for Australia, "Well, we better get to it. I'll start with—"

"_Oh, I'm sorry_! Please excuse me—"

Sirius balked as a girl suddenly flew past him and clumsily rammed her shoulder into his arm. Dressed in an extraordinary violet dress adorned with intricate lace, the woman briefly turned toward Sirius and flashed him an apologetic smile before resolutely turning toward her intended destination. Tongue-tied, Sirius watched as Frank Longbottom's dance partner spirited away, unsure as to why he felt a sudden sense of familiarity.

_Who is she?_

"Is everything alright, Lady Rockford?" Gideon called out after the girl, though she was too far away to hear his chivalrous cry, "She seemed in an awful hurry, didn't she, Fabian?"

"I hope Malfoy isn't bothering her again." Fabian uttered protectively to his brother, Sirius looking between the twins in befuddlement, "Perhaps we should go and check on her—"

"Hold up; who the _bloody hell_ is Lady Rockford?" Sirius blurted out sharply, rubbing his arm in displeasure as his eyes followed the back of the girl's head through the crowd, "I've never heard of her before…"

"Seems nobody has. She's Dumbledore's niece—lived in Canada previously." Gideon replied matter-of-factly, crossing his arms, "Just arrived here a month ago. Fabian and I met her before the dance began. It appears she and Longbottom are already a couple."

"_Since when_ does Dumbledore have a _niece_?" Sirius inquired suspiciously, unable to shake the bizarre feeling Lady Rockford has awoken within him.

"You know Dumbledore; he's very private about his family." Fabian noted, arching his neck to try and get another glimpse of the disappeared lady, "She's a lovely girl—surprisingly bright. She gave Narcissa and Lucius a run for their money about an hour ago; it was _truly_ an entertaining spectacle."

"It's not that surprising; she _is_ related to _Dumbledore_, after all." Gideon piped up practically, a grin spreading over his stubbled face, "_Merlin_, Sirius, you should have seen Malfoy's face—I've never seen the man's resolve so shaken. The girl's a testament to the Dumbledore family."

"How the hell did she manage that? What did she say to him?" Sirius demanded abrasively, his budding curiosity about the mysterious girl making him feel anxious and uneasy.

"Well, first she insinuated that Malfoy belonged to a powerless and insignificant wizarding family, and then she went on to imply that—_er_—the Black family is a cast of inbreeds." Gideon explained circumspectly, quickly realizing his retelling of events could potentially offend Sirius.

There was a prolonged pause between the three men; then, quite abruptly, Sirius burst into fiendish laughter—a scene which caused many onlookers to take notice of him for the first time. Wiping tears of mirth from his handsome face, he finally exclaimed, "_She…really…said…that? HA! Brilliant!_ I've got to go meet this bird—I'll see you two later!"

Without excuse or explanation, Sirius departed from Fabian and Gideon and headed toward the food tables, intent on meeting the fearsome niece of Lord Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

_10:00 p.m._

Dazed, Lily had somehow managed to make her way across the richly decorated dance floor to the food tables located on the opposite end of the Dining Hall. Still in shock from Frank's unexpected kiss—a kiss that had felt decidedly genuine, despite their fictitious relationship—Lily haphazardly snatched what she thought was a flute of champagne off of one of the buffet tables and downed the contents, her guilt driving her to seek refuge in a bottle.

_I've betrayed him…_

As the foreign liquid seeped down Lily's throat, her eyes suddenly widened, her throat and tongue aflame with the taste of whiskey. Attempting to mask her impolite hacking from onlookers, she located an actual glass of champagne to numb the burning of the alcohol. When she finally recovered from her blunder, Lily glared at the empty glass once holding the unknown substance, massaging her throat with her free hand.

"Not a fan of firewhiskey, Lady Rockford?"

Surprised, Lily recoiled, a chipper male voice sounding from behind her. When she turned—her hand still clutching her throbbing throat—she came face-to-face with a striking young man of Spanish heritage. As she blatantly stared at him, her astonishment evident and words escaping her, he smirked mischievously, his lush hazel eyes sparkling with natural bronze flecks.

"_Dear me_, I'm sorry; it seems that dreadful alcohol has numbed my brain!" Lily finally mustered in mortification, blushing violently as the boy began to chuckle.

"I suppose firewhiskey is an acquired taste. I'm afraid I drink it so often that I'm almost immune to its initial _sizzle_." The boy grinned merrily, extending a casual hand toward Lily, "I wanted to come over and introduce myself before your uncle swooped in and insisted on presenting you to another _dreary_ ministry official—my name is Rudolph Brand."

Lily allowed the boy to kiss her hand, her blush beginning to fade, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Brand. I'm sorry I didn't make a better first impression upon you."

"Don't be silly; I love a woman who can drink." Rudolph waved off Lily's embarrassment, his mouth naturally settling into a grin, "Hang around me and I'll have you immune to the hard stuff in no time flat. You may end up with a hole in your stomach and a failing liver, but I guarantee you'll be wildly respected in the pubs."

Lily giggled, Lord Rudolph Brand's humourous presence putting her frazzled nerves at ease. She wasn't sure why, but she felt naturally drawn to the boy's easy grace and playful attitude, "Do you offer drinking educations to all the young ladies, Lord Brand?"

"Please, don't call me that: My friends call me 'Rue' or 'Brand'. I can't stand my title." The bronze-skinned boy insisted nonchalantly, "And to answer your question, no. Most ladies your age are too uptight for such a…_practical_ form of instruction. But you, Lady Rockford, strike me as quite different from the rest of those neurotic _harpies_."

Lily nearly spat out the champagne she had been sipping, Lord Brand's description of society women tickling her funny bone, "_Neurotic harpies_? You have a talent for oration, _Rue_."

"I think outside of the box." Lord Brand smiled clandestinely, peaking Lily's interest.

"Do tell; what makes you think I'm so different, exactly?" Lily inquired innocently, though she silently hoped he could not see straight through her flimsy disguise.

"I like to think I have a nose for who people _really_ are." Lord Brand said somewhat mysteriously, his hazel eyes surreptitiously twinkling, "I myself am not like every other male aristocrat, though I won't go into detail just now. Ultimately, I think you're unique from the others because _I_ am unique. The moment I saw you I felt drawn to you—like a _besotted_ moth to a flame."

Instead of feeling overwhelmed by Lord Brand's forthright statement or deciphering his honesty as a creepy attempt at seduction, Lily found Lord Brand to be refreshingly genuine. His actions weren't those of an epicurean fop; rather, Lily found Rudolph Brand to be curiously puritan.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Lily smiled fully, her eyes softening with unexpected affection.

"Please do—one doesn't come across too many sincere compliments in a setting such as this." Lord Brand said softly, winking affably.

Without warning, a squeaky house-elf waddled over to Lily and Rudolph, her little rubber shoes scuffing the floors as she hurried forward, "M-M-Master Dumbledore asked Kiki to tell M-M-Mistress Rockford that he would like M-M-Mistress to join him for a toast."

"Thank you, Kiki. I'll be right over." Lily said kindly to the stuttering elf, fearing for the fretful little creature, "I suppose I must go join my uncle. It was a pleasure meeting you, Rue. I hope to see you again soon?"

"The brightest stars always gravitate toward one another, you see, for when they are together they feel like a match for the sun." Lord Brand said whimsically, kissing Lily's hand and winking, "I'm certain I'll stumble upon you torturing your liver again soon, Lady Rockford."

"Aurora…it's Aurora." Lily smiled warmly, gracefully curtsying toward the eclectic character, "Until then, fellow star."

Lord Brand bowed cordially and turned to leave, his amber scent lingering in his trail as he assimilated back into the surrounding crowd. Lily sighed contentedly, his smoky cologne helping to temporarily relieve her of the combined stress of Frank Longbottom, Lucius Malfoy and James Potter…

"So _this_ is the courtier who isn't afraid to put a Black in their place…"

The familiarity of the voice that sounded from behind Lily suddenly sent unexpected shivers down her exposed back. The sultry way the speaker formed every word—the way his tone teetered on the verge of mockery, a leg-pulling joke and tormenting laugh not far from his lips—immediately ignited a picture in Lily's clever mind; a picture of a boy whom she had not factored into her revelations earlier that day…

_My God…is it even possible…?_

The calming scent of Rudolph Brand lost to her nose, the colourful room before her started to irrepressibly spin, dizziness causing her eyes to sting mercilessly. Though she kept her back turned, unable to confront the man due to her uncontrollable vertigo, he continued to speak proudly, "I must say, Lady Rockford, I rarely find myself impressed by female aristocrats, but anyone who can put my _ice queen_ of a cousin in her place is deserving of my praise."

_Related to Narcissa…a wizard…just like James…_

"Lady Rockford?"

_He knows who I am…he's going to recognize me and blow apart my disguise…_

"Lady Rockford, have you not heard a _word_ I've said to you?"

_God help me…what am I going to do?_

"I…I have, Lord Black." Lily whispered deftly, clutching her writhing stomach as she willed herself to face a man who was on the brink of ruining all of Dumbledore's plans and exposing her true identity.

"_Ah_, so you've heard of me." Sirius Black smiled triumphantly, waiting for the shy girl to turn around and meet his gaze, "I expect you've heard the other noblewoman speaking of me. I assure you, nothing they say is true—well, at least not _all _of it…"

"No, I haven't heard of you, Lord Black…but we have met before." Lily said breathlessly, pressing her hands to her chest to keep them from trembling fearfully.

"Met before? No, surely not. I would have remembered the niece of Albus Dumbledore. But why don't you turn and show me your face? I will know then." Sirius suggested earnestly, a mixture of charm, curiosity and agitation colouring his voice; Lily could tell he sensed something was amiss.

_You must be brave…_

Heart pounding viciously against her chest, Lily mustered the strength to turn around and confront the best friend of her lost love, James Potter. When her eyes finally locked Sirius' bewildered brown ones—a moment which seemed devoid of time—the rest of the Dining Hall seemed to fade away. Looking just as he had on the night she and Roxanne had snuck out of St. Madeline's—a memory from an altogether different period in her life, it seemed—Lily nearly choked out a sob, the boy's appearance solidifying all she had come to realize earlier that day: James Potter was a wizard, just as she was.

"Don't you recognize me, Sirius?" Lily whispered desperately, her eyes mirroring the trepidation she felt.

Sirius did not speak straight away; his eyes roamed Lily's face with the utmost incredulity, moistening with every passing second. Despite her changed appearance, she knew Sirius did indeed recognize her, the deepening creases in his forehead and the disbelief mirroring in his eyes indication enough. The longer he wordlessly scrutinized her, the more worried Lily became; he seemed to be waging an internal war with himself, fighting against a truth he could not comprehend.

When Sirius finally managed to speak, Lily shivered, his barely-audible voice reduced to a threatening growl, "_What the hell is going on here?_"

_Oh god…can I trust him with the truth?_

"Please don't make a scene, Sirius. I-I-I can explain." Lily's voice trembled as she whispered feverishly to the handsome man, whose face was gradually flushing with inexplicable rage.

"_James thinks you're dead_." Sirius hissed menacingly, his eyes dark with fury, "_What the fuck were you doing, parading around as a muggle? What is this twisted game you're playing?_"

Lily's heart dropped, mention of James causing tears to suddenly well in her eyes. She reached out for Sirius and clutched his wrist tightly, desperation and pain dimming her pretty face. She didn't care how angry he was with her, despair suddenly ballooning within her, "Sirius…James…is he…is he…_alive_?"

The skin around Sirius' eyes crinkled as he interpreted the fusion of terror and trauma on Lily's face. When the question slipped from her tongue she swayed slightly, her face flushed with upset. Still furious, Sirius reluctantly grasped Lily's arm to steady her, his face communicating the distrust he felt, "_Of course_ he is. He's been looking for you."

Tears uncontrollably collected in the corners of Lily's eyes, news that James was alive and searching for her causing repressed happiness and hope to abruptly rise from the ashes of her decimated dreams. Overwhelmed by Sirius' presence and his admission about James, she knew she could not discipline the emotion on her face for much longer.

Lily whispered to Sirius pleadingly, "I am in danger, Sirius. I cannot give away my true identity. We must find somewhere quiet to talk; then I will explain _everything_."

"Danger? Who endangers you?" Sirius breathed conspiratorially, his wrath slowly lessening as her paranoia began to temper his mood.

"I can't say…there are too many people watching us…" Lily murmured back, her blue eyes alive with worry; she looked around at the surrounding crowd, knowing Frank would come looking for her at any moment, "We must hurry. Dumbledore and Frank will come for me soon."

"Not before I get my answers. Follow me." Sirius insisted brusquely, taking Lily's arm and spiriting her away toward the moon-lit gardens.

* * *

_10:30 p.m._

"She's identified the unknown death eater as Malfoy. She recognizes his voice and recalls his name being spoken the night he and Wilkes broke into the school." Frank Longbottom murmured secretively to Dumbledore, the two wizards conspiratorially sharing a glass of brandy before the next politician dared to approach Hogwarts' Headmaster, "She's spooked, Lord Dumbledore. Perhaps I should take her back to her room for the night?"

"No, we cannot let Malfoy think he has affected her. Any trace of fear may cause him to think something is awry." Dumbledore replied imperceptibly, appearing nonplused as he smiled at guests who passed them by, "Stay calm and remain by her side for the rest of the evening. We will discuss the implications of this revelation after the Gala."

"Yes—of course. I will go and find her." Frank said compliantly, though he disagreed with the old wizard's decision, acutely aware that Lily was suffering in the presence of Malfoy.

As Frank bowed graciously and turned to leave, Dumbledore gently stopped him, his bright blue eyes glimmering behind his half-moon spectacles, "Lord Longbottom?"

"Yes, Lord Dumbledore?" Frank inquired shortly, anxious to return to Lily. When he turned to look back, he could tell whatever the elderly wizard had to say was important, his wrinkled mouth poised for a secret.

"Frank…I can see how close you have become to Aurora. She is both beautiful and intelligent; however, I must ask you to remember to keep to the plan. We cannot have your feelings for Aurora endanger the task at hand." Dumbledore uttered carefully, his bushy eyebrows drawn sympathetically, "Be careful with her—she is at her most vulnerable right now."

_Fuck…he saw the kiss…he thinks I'm taking advantage of her…_

"Lord Dumbledore, _I swear to you_, she is safe with me. I would do nothing to harm her or the plan." Frank breathed zealously, his eyes shaded with intensity.

"I know you to be a good man, Frank. You've done splendidly thus far. Just tread carefully." Dumbledore replied evenly, placing a soothing hand on Frank's shoulder, "Now, go and find my dear niece. And Frank—do keep an eye out."

Left feeling unbelievably ashamed of his actions toward Lily, Frank pressed headlong into the crowd, determined to correct his blunder and explain to Lily that he had kissed her only to solidify their fabricated relationship—a thought which, in truth, had never even crossed his mind. As he pushed past guests, uncaring of whether or not he was being impolite, Frank inwardly scolded himself for letting his heart win out over his head.

_Why did I kiss her? Why did I do such a stupid thing! Merlin I'm a fool…_

When Frank emerged from the increasingly boisterous crowd, slipping into an empty space before the food tables, he froze, his eyes darting about for a girl that wasn't there.

"Aurora?" Frank called out stupidly, his eyebrows fixed sternly on his forehead as he looked around for the lavender-clad girl, "What the hell…?"

"Missing someone, Longbottom?" a smug voice sounded from behind Frank, causing him to turn on his heels and almost bump chests with another smartly-dressed aristocrat.

Standing nearly six foot, Lord Regulus Black was almost as good-looking as his older brother, Sirius. Having the same brown—albeit precisely combed—hair and golden eyes, the Black boys were practically twins, though Regulus appeared to lack Sirius' sturdier build and sported a much preppier appearance. A seventh year Slytherin boy that Frank had had no patience for when he had been in school, Regulus Black was no friend to him.

"Not that it's any of your business, _Black_, but I'm looking for Lady Rockford." Frank grit his teeth together and turned away from the irksome aristocrat, choosing to ignore his jibs and continue his search for Lily.

"You really _should_ keep an eye on your girlfriends, Longbottom. I hear you have a history of losing your women to other, _better_ men." Regulus Black taunted arrogantly, his startling eyes ablaze with inherited egotism, "It seems Lady Rockford will be the next lady snatched away from you. She was yours for what—_less than a day_? That must be some sort of record—"

"Do you like the sound of your own voice, Black? Because in case you haven't noticed, nobody is listening to your _insipid nonsense_." Frank fired back in annoyance, more agitated that he couldn't find Lily than by the exasperating boy.

Regulus snickered, lightly toying with his flamboyant neck-tie—a curly bow that spilled onto his impressively luxurious tuxedo, "I'm just trying to help you win back your lady love, Longbottom. But if you don't want to know where she's gone, I'll simply leave you to your doomed search"

Frank stopped his pacing and massaged his temple, a migraine besetting his head as he looked up at Regulus and stridently glared, "Tell me where she is before I hang you by that _ridiculous_ bow around your neck, Black."

"_Manners_, Longbottom." Regulus scolded in amusement, clearly enjoying the torment he was causing his rival, "What I've been _trying_ to tell you is that I last saw Lady Rockford heading out to the gardens with none other than my _idiot_ brother. They seemed _very_ cozy, exchanging whispers with one another."

"_What_? Where in _Merlin's name_ would she go with _Sirius_? I didn't even know he was here…" Frank inquired doubtfully, speaking more to himself than Regulus.

"You better hurry after them, Longbottom. It won't be long until my dear brother has Lady Rockford _bent over naked_ behind a mulberry bush…"

Abandoning restraint, Frank lunged for Regulus, taking the younger man off guard. He grabbed the handsome boy by the scruff of his dress shirt and gave him a shake, startling some of the surrounding guests: "_If I wasn't surrounded by a room full of nobles, your face would be black and blue,_ _friend_." Frank growled, smiling brightly as soon as he released Regulus' skirt. He patted Regulus hard on the back—making the boy cough—as he casually strolled away, beaming at nearby aristocrats, "Just having some fun, ladies and gentlemen! Regulus and I are old Hogwarts mates!"

Leaving a sore, scowling Regulus behind, as well as a collection of merry laughs and chortles—product of the nobles he had fooled into believing he had been exchanging friendly blows with the young Black—Frank jealously advanced into the Hogwarts gardens, anxious to prove Regulus' naughty prophecy incorrect.

* * *

_10:30 p.m._

The cool night air numbly gnawed at Lily's bare arms and shoulders as she and Sirius Black plunged into the Hogwarts gardens bordering the Dining Hall. Despite the summer's darkness, the garden was a venerable beacon of light, paper lanterns lining every tree and coils of magical lights wrapped around the landscaped shrubs and hedges. In the air hung the smell of flora, sweet and fragrant like the raspberry _Dom Perignon_ Lily had been sipping all night, and from the party drifted the sound of Tchaikovsky's _Swan Lake_—a departure from the big band music that had been playing earlier in the evening.

Despite the romantic atmosphere, Lily was being roughly dragged by Sirius to the darkest depths of the garden—a place where they would not be interrupted.

"There is no need to _man-handle_ me!" Lily insisted irritably, wrenching her arm away from Sirius as they came under the umbrella of a willow tree, "You're tugging me around like I'm some sort of criminal!"

"_If only_ people could be sent to Azkaban for breaking hearts." Sirius replied severely, his beautiful eyes unforgivingly considering the girl.

"If that were the case, then you'd have been locked up _years_ ago!" Lily spat back defensively, feeling emotionally scattered, "Now would you _stop_ unnecessarily berating me so I can explain to you what's going on?"

"Where will you even begin? Perhaps you can start by telling me who you _really_ are: Are you a _poor little muggle girl_ who lives a miserable existence locked up in a boarding school, or a courtier who _just so happens_ to be the niece of the most _powerful _wizard in Britain? Who exactly have you tricked, girl? James or Dumbledore?" Sirius snapped acrimoniously, his temper beginning to flare again.

"I haven't tricked _either_ of them!" Lily bit back, heat rising to her face as her eyes darted about the garden for any sign of life, "_For your_ _bloody_ _information_, I didn't know who I really was until a month ago. For almost eighteen years I believed that I was a _nobody_—an orphan who was dropped at the stairs of a church by parents who didn't want her. Then, just four weeks ago, two death eaters showed up at my school and tried to _kidnap_ me. Luckily for me they were unsuccessful and Dumbledore found me first."

Sirius' mouth suddenly fell open, his eyes widening in horrified surprise, "_Death eaters_? What do Voldemort's _cronies_ want with a muggle like _you_?"

"I'm _not_ a muggle, Sirius." Lily pointedly asserted, her temper evening out as Sirius' anger began to also gradually wane, "Years ago, when I was first born, my parents learned that Voldemort suspected that I possessed…some sort of power that he thought could vanquish him."

"_What_?" Sirius echoed hoarsely, his face disbelieving.

"_I know_—it's daft, but my parents made the decision to hide me in the muggle world, knowing that he wouldn't stop until he found me. Not soon after they hid me were they found…and killed…by Voldemort himself."

"_Merlin_…" Sirius whispered, his eyes swimming with appalled amazement as he sank onto a marble bench not far from their willow tree, "All this time…you were never told you were a witch? Nobody ever came to look for you?"

"My parents didn't tell anyone where I was hidden. They gave me a locket…a locket that disguised any untrained magic I often unknowingly demonstrated when I was angry or sad…but a month ago, I accidentally smashed the locket…and mere hours later two death eaters showed up at the school."

"Voldemort has been looking for you this _entire_ time?" Sirius demanded hollowly, unable to wrap his head around the fantastical tale, "What magic could you _possibly_ possess that would scare him so much?"

"I don't know, Sirius…" Lily said softly, sighing as she sank onto the bench beside him, "A day later, Frank, Moody and Kingsley showed up to evacuate me to Hogwarts. Somehow Dumbledore got wind of my whereabouts, and since then he—along with the others—have made it their mission to protect me."

Sirius ran his hands through his slicked-back hair, thin stress lines forming under his clouded eyes. Lily quietly observed him, her heart thudding against the walls of her chest as she wondered what thoughts were causing him such unease, "Sirius…are you alright?"

"It's just…what are the chances…?" Sirius mused aloud, suddenly looking at Lily as if she were a dream, "All this time, neither you nor James knew the other was a wizard…it's…it's hardly _fathomable_…"

"It was a lot to take in at once." Lily admitted faintly, clutching her arms as the night's chilly breath tickled them. She looked up into Sirius' unreadable face, fragile emotion behind her eyes, "All this time I've been so worried that I'd never see James again…that he would either perish in the war or live and come back to find me missing. I thought that…that even if he lived, I'd never be able to seek him out, especially now that I knew I was a witch and had to convincingly play the part of Dumbledore's niece for my own safety…"

"Never dreamed you were of the same worlds…I daresay James never imagined the possibility either. But Dumbledore…the man's a genius, hiding you in plain sight like he is. Voldemort would never suspect that he would so dangerously parade you around like he is. Probably expects he's got you locked away somewhere remote—a place where you could develop your supposed power…" Sirius trailed off, his eyes glazing over as he stared into the dark garden; quite suddenly he smiled, "I suppose he doesn't know that James, Remus and I know your true identity. When he finds out he won't be pleased."

"No…I suppose he won't. I was afraid when I first saw you that you'd give me away…that perhaps you weren't in league with Dumbledore." Lily bit her lip, wondering if Sirius would take offence to her suggestion.

"Indeed…that was a dangerous chance you took, Lily." Sirius replied unsmilingly, though a bewildered grin eventually cracked his face as he covertly whispered, "But you're in luck. James, Remus and I are all in the Order of the Phoenix…I assume you know what that is?"

"Yes…the secret society Dumbledore started. You and James have been a part of the Order this entire time?" Lily inquired weakly, thoughts of James fighting against Voldemort and his death eaters making her feel apprehensive rather than comforted.

_James is fighting against the very wizard who rendered me an orphan…_

"Since we graduated Hog—"

Snappishly, Sirius ceased speaking and turned his head away from Lily, his ears perking up like a canine's. Lily blinked in confusion, alarmed by Sirius' strange behaviour; before she could question him, he roughly clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her to her feet, causing the hem of her dress to tear.

"Wha…?" Lily attempted, her eyes growing wide with antagonism.

"_Somebody's coming_." Sirius warned quietly, keeping a firm hand over Lily's outraged mouth as he swiftly guided her behind a thicket of rosebushes a distance away from the marble bench.

Lily grimaced threateningly when Sirius released her. Concealing her presence, she sank to the ground alongside Sirius, the back of her dress muddying as she pressed firmly against the thorned bushes. As the distant sound of approaching footsteps reverberated nearby, Sirius squashed a cautionary finger to his mouth, indicating for Lily to remain silent. She continued to glare.

"Aurora, are you out here? Aurora?"

Lily's eyes amplified as Frank Longbottom's worried voice carried across the garden. His tone clearly communicated his anxiety over her disappearance—a fact which deeply bothered her. Lily looked to Sirius, her eyes pleadingly asking for his permission to show herself; he shook his head vigorously in response, the remnants of a plan developing behind his beautiful eyes.

"Aurora? Auro—_what's this?_ AURORA, ARE YOU OUT HERE? _AURORA_?"

Compunction bubbled in her abdomen as Lily guessed that Frank had found a piece of her ripped dress, his voice transitioning from worried to full-blown panicked. Knowing that Frank was likely envisioning the worst-case scenario, Lily stirred, on the verge of revealing herself out of sheer guilt.

"_Don't bloody move_." Sirius inaudibly mouthed, masculine intensity hardening his jaw as he steadied Lily's quivering arm. As Frank's calls for Lily began to weaken, making it clear that he was heading away from their hiding place, Sirius whispered gravely, "Listen, Lily: We don't have much time. We need to get to James _now_. If we try to explain to Dumbledore or Frank what's going on, we'll be too late to stop James from leaving."

"_Leaving_? Where on earth is he going?" Lily inquired fretfully, concern colouring her porcelain features as she felt her heart constrict unpleasantly.

"He thinks you're _dead_, Lily, and he hasn't been taking it well. He's heading for Australia tonight, to join the war effort out there." Sirius murmured grimly, taking a moment to peak over the rosebush for any sign of Frank, "_Dammit_, Longbottom is heading back over here…"

"_Australia_?" Lily echoed croakily, tears welling in the corners of her eyes as she realized that James was going to be taken away from her again, "Where is he? How do we stop him?"

"_Leave your questions for later!_ If we have any chance of catching him, we need to leave _now_." Sirius urgently stressed, peering over the rosebush in concern, "_Bloody hell!_ Frank will be upon us at any moment…will you come with me? James won't believe you're alive unless he sees you for himself!"

"But…Frank…Dumbledore...they'll be _furious_ with me." Lily whispered frantically, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as footsteps neared and logic presented no clear solution.

"You're _so_ close, Lily! Are you really going to let James slip away _again_?" Sirius asked incredulously, his features contorting disbelievingly.

_Sirius is right. James is alive…he came back for me just like he'd promised…_

"O.K…let's go." Lily whispered gently, her features slick with desperation as Sirius broke into his first true grin of the night.

"_Get ready for one hell of a ride_…" Sirius smiled devilishly, extracting his wand from his suit jacket and surreptitiously pointing it over the rosebush toward Frank, "_Bombarda_!"

Lily gasped in surprise as a violent _crack_, followed by Frank Longbottom's startled shout, made the entire garden shudder. Instantly popping her head up and over the bush in alarm, she glimpsed Frank—his expensive tuxedo soaked through—battling with what could only be described as a fountain-gone-haywire; compliments of Sirius' _explosive_ spell-work.

"He's distracted, _come on_!" Sirius frantically urged Lily, pulling at her arm as she remorsefully watched Frank try to control the sadistically-sputtering garden accessory. Relenting to Sirius' impatient tugging, Lily forlornly turned away from the chaotic scene and haphazardly headed toward the bottom of the sloping garden.

"Where are we going?" Lily inquired anxiously, picking up her dress as she laboured down the hill into pitch black darkness, "Sirius?"

Ignored, Lily followed behind Sirius at a fast pace, sweat collecting on her brow as she warily tried to gain her bearings. As darkness began to enfold them like a shadowed blanket, the lit garden fading into the backdrop, Lily realized she and Sirius were heading for the Forbidden Forest.

"We won't be able to apparate to London until we get into Hogsmeade." Sirius explained restlessly, heaving a frustrated sigh when he stopped to let Lily catch up to him, "We need to follow the road into Hogsmeade. We don't have much time, though, so _do_ try and keep up."

"_What's the bloody rush_?" Lily demanded irritably, the bottoms of her feet aching with blisters as she continued to lug the heavy train of her dress through the dirt and mud.

"James is taking the Ministry's _Floo Network_ at midnight. That only gives us an hour to catch him before he departs." Sirius returned tetchily, pulling off his tuxedo jacket and uncaringly discarding it on the ground, "If we don't catch James before then, it may take us months to figure out where he is…that is…unless…"

Dawning suddenly spreading over his clean-shaven face, Sirius dug a hand into one of his pant pockets and extracted a small, intricately-carved hand mirror. Lily frowned as he carefully studied his image in the object.

"This is _hardly_ the time to check your hair, Sirius!" Lily finally yelped in annoyance, the silence that had crept between them making her apprehensive.

"It's a communication mirror, for _Merlin's sake_!" Sirius bit back defensively, wiping the glass with the cuff of his dress shirt before loudly pronouncing: "_Potter! Oi, Potter! James, mate, are you there? If you can hear me, don't go anywhere! LILY IS ALIVE, Potter! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE! POTTER?_"

Sirius cursed under his breath, irritation stamped on his face as he threw the non-responsive mirror onto the cold ground alongside his jacket and aggressively kicked it away, "_Piece of rubbish_…the hard way _it is_, then. We've only got an hour—let's get to Hogsmeade, Evans."

"That's _Everard_, Sirius."

"_What_?"

"…Nevermind."

As Sirius plunged back into the darkness, continuing to mutter profanities under his breath, Lily paused to collect the discarded mirror, uncertainty uncomfortably gnawing away at her. She looked back at her reflection in the cracked glass and heaved a sigh, clutching it to her chest protectively.

_Don't leave without me, James…_

Willing herself to cease trembling, Lily embarked into the unknown after Sirius, translucent fog swirling in her wake.

* * *

_11:00 p.m._

James Potter sat forlornly at the foot of _The_ _Fountain of Magical Brethren_, an enormous golden statue located in the atrium of the British Ministry of Magic, his body tiredly slumped against the stone-lined pool. Though the fountain was a sight to behold, splendidly depicting a witch and wizard encircled by an adoring centaur, goblin and house-elf, James paid no mind to the statue's leaky depictions, preoccupied with thoughts of Australia.

He had been to the Ministry countless times before, one of many milling about between 9:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m., but tonight was the first time James had ever been to the Ministry of Magic after hours. Usually bustling with rabid activity, the atrium was absolutely silent, the only noise stemming from the gurgling fountain systematically spewing water. Indigo-coloured torchlight subtly cast the highly-polished wood floors and black-tiled archways into relief, though it barely illuminated the continuously-moving golden symbols swimming across the peacock-blue ceiling. Eerily, the gates leading to the lifts were closed and locked—something James had never seen before—and the gilded fireplaces lining the walls remained stagnant and flameless.

James sighed, the Ministry's lifelessness only seeming to worsen the sinking feeling he had been experiencing ever since arriving in Whitehall hours earlier.

_Pull yourself together. Remember why you're doing this._

"Ah, you must be Lord Potter."

Interrupting his inward attempts at self-assurance, James hastily climbed to his feet as a stout female voice sounded from his left. Brushing dust from his faded jeans, he courteously extended a hand toward the speaker—a reedy-framed, middle-aged woman with _unmanageably_ curly hair. Dressed in a stern burgundy suit with one-too-many buttons, the ministry official tentatively accepted James' hand and shook it firmly.

"Lord Potter, my name is Louisa Edgecomb. I work for the Department of Magical Transportation."

"Good evening." James replied simply, in no mood to exchange niceties.

Nonplussed, Miss Edgecomb continued her professional diatribe: "I am of the understanding that you have scheduled travel to Sydney, Australia with my office—_more specifically_, a midnight trip via the Floo Network. Is this correct, Lord Potter?"

"That is correct." James replied stoically, nervously fidgeting with the handle of the green army bag he had packed and brought along.

"Excellent. You know, this is the first time we've made an exception and opened the International Floo Network after hours." Miss Edgecomb asserted challengingly, less deferential to James' title than most commoners, "We didn't even open the Floo Network for the late Minister for Magic, _Faris Spavin_, when his prize camel fell ill while he was on holiday in Bora Bora…"

James narrowed his brunette eyes, sceptically considering the snooty Miss Edgecomb, "Is that so? Your cooperation this evening is greatly appreciated, then."

Miss Edgecomb frowned, reluctant to seem anything but inconvenienced by the casually-attired lord, "Yes…well, it's getting rather late, so I'd like to show you to your fireplace so I can be on my way home—"

Quite suddenly, James' jean pocket began to pugnaciously vibrate, causing his whole leg to unnaturally shiver. Miss Edgecomb's eyes curiously bulged as James loosed his communication mirror from his pant pocket and proceeded to press it against his leg to prevent the caller on the other side from seeing his reflection. When Sirius' clear voice finally rang out from the magical object, James cringed, his heart yearning to abandon his plans for Australia.

"_Potter! Oi, Potter! James, mate, are you there? If you can hear me, don't go anywhere! LI—"_

Upset, James roughly shoved the talking mirror into his army bag before Sirius could finish, his packed clothing muffling the remainder of his best friend's message. He couldn't stand the temptation of his best friend's voice, afraid Sirius might actually be able to convince him to remain behind in England…

"Do you need to take that call?" Miss Edgecomb inquired incredulously, crossing her arms as she simultaneously raised a suspicious, bushy brow.

"No, it's not important. Continue." James returned curtly, irritably regarding the woman.

_Why do you have to make this more difficult on me, Sirius?_

"I see…this way, if you please."

Gruffly slinging his bag over his shoulder, James followed Miss Edgecomb to the nearby corridor symmetrically lined with intricately-designed fireplaces. Walking three-quarters of the way down the hallway, Miss Edgecomb robotically stopped before a seemingly random fireplace and adjusted her spectacles, peering at the number engraved on the mantle.

"Here we are…fireplace number thirty-seven." Miss Edgecomb enunciated in a business-like tone, suddenly opening her leather-bound briefcase and extracting a small velveteen bag, "This fireplace will become operational at the stroke of midnight. When the flame bursts into existence, take _precisely_ two heaping handfuls of Floo powder and throw the substance into the flames. As you are travelling a vast distance, more powder is required than usually necessary."

"Right. Thanks." James replied shortly, taking the bag of Floo powder from the patronizing woman.

"_Furthermore_, wait _exactly_ five seconds for the powder to take effect, then step into the flames and _clearly_ speak the name of your destination. Your destination fireplace is located in a pub in Sydney called the _Fortune of War_. The elderly bartender there will be expecting you."

_How ironic._

"_Now_, unless you have any questions, I will be leaving for home." Miss Edgecomb concluded, clipping together the top of her briefcase and extending a manicured hand toward James, "Happy travels, Lord Potter."

"Thank you, Miss Edgecomb. I trust your manager has stressed to you the importance of confidentiality?" James shook the woman's hand, his gaze unyielding.

"Yes, Lord Potter. Only he and I know of your travels, and—_as you can see_—you and I are the only people here currently. Even the _Unspeakables_ are home by now. _Additionally_, no one can apparate in or out of the Ministry after hours, the Floo Network is closed until the morning, and anyone who attempts to enter via the visitors' entrance will be apprehended by the Ministry's…_innovative_ new security system. Unless there is a security breach—which hasn't occurred in nearly twenty years, _might I add_—your trip should go very much undisturbed, Lord Potter."

_Bloody know-it-all._

"Very good. Careful home, Miss Edgecomb." James said dismissively, dropping his bag to the ground as the stern ministry official nodded and took off toward the security desk, her spiky maroon heels clicking along the dark wooden floors.

Once he was sure Miss Edgecomb had turned out of sight, James sank onto the ground before the empty fireplace, deflated. After checking his magical wristwatch he groaned, pulling his bag toward him as he realized he still had a half hour to kill. Before lying down and maneuvering the satchel underneath his head to act as a pillow, James reluctantly pulled his communication mirror out to examine it.

Sirius' face was absent from the glass; all he could see was darkness—likely the inside of Sirius' pocket. Both disappointed and relieved not to see Sirius, James laid the mirror face-down on his chest, willing his heart to stop pounding unnaturally. A strange feeling was pulsating in his chest—a mixture of nervousness and uneasiness that didn't seem completely the product of his soon-to-be pilgrimage to Australia. Hypocritically, his intuition—previously compelling him to take flight—was now urging him to stay put.

_Perspective, James. You're doing this for her…to avenge her._

James closed his sad eyes, silently compelling himself to remain calm. As he gradually began to doze off, the coo of the fountain like a methodical lullaby, he could hear the faint murmurs of a man and a woman coming from the mirror nestled on his chest.

* * *

_11:30 p.m._

An ear-splitting** pop **announced the eventual arrival ofLily and Sirius in desolate Whitehall, London.

After an agonizing hike into Hogsmeade and a dizzying apparation, Lily found herself in a bricked alley flanked with tin rubbish bins and smelling strongly of old fish. Pinching her nose to avoid the overwhelming odour, she looked to Sirius for an explanation of their surroundings.

"My, my, don't we look out of place?" Sirius smirked teasingly, absorbing their dire surroundings with a chuckle before taking Lily's hand and leading her out of the alley. He found the juxtaposition of Lily's grandiose dress with the backstreet's filth to be quite amusing.

Following Sirius out of the passageway, Lily was instantly met by the sight of a crumbling, smouldering building. She blinked sceptically as Sirius pulled her down the deserted street, noticing that most of the structures down the rue were in bad disrepair, some with their ceilings collapsed and others reduced to indistinguishable rubble—rubble which exuded thick, grey smoke. A terrified chill ran up the length of her spine as she grasped the context of the ghostly ruins.

"Sirius…please tell me this…this…_isn't_…?" Lily trembled feebly, her face paling as she squeezed Sirius' hand. London was barely distinguishable.

"Afraid so, darling." Sirius breathed gravely, averting his eyes from the horrifying disorder, "If Dumbledore and the others had delayed your rescue by only a few hours, you would have been in the middle of this. Of course, James and I assumed you _had_ been."

Lily shuddered at the thought, blinking back shocked tears, "S-St. Madeline's?"

Sirius sighed, shaking his head: "The school was decimated in the raid. A bomb landed right on its head. Most of the surrounding buildings were crushed too, from the residual blast—you can imagine the scene James encountered when he came back for you."

"My God…" Lily gasped helplessly, clutching at her heart as distress and upset transformed her delicate features, "James…h-he must have been—"

"_Devastated_ would probably be the word for it." Sirius cut in grimly, all of his usual, characteristic happiness draining from his face. He suddenly stopped, taking a reluctant look around at his shattered surroundings, than turned to Lily, his eyes sombre, "I've never seen him like that, Lily. The thought of you dead _broke_ him. He didn't know how to deal with your loss…how to mourn. He's been riddled with guilt, blaming himself for not protecting you…and now he's got it in his head that he must rejoin the war to _avenge_ you. The Ministry of Magic forbade the magical community from joining the muggle war, yet James and I did anyway and got caught by Dumbledore himself. James thinks the only way to rejoin the muggle war is to do so _outside_ of England, and therefore outside of Dumbledore's reach."

"He's doing all of this…for _me_?" Lily echoed weakly, her blue eyes magnified with un-spilled tears.

"Yes. It's…remarkable how much he cares for you, really." Sirius trailed off, staring hard at a particularly ravaged building.

Lily gulped emotionally, Sirius' admission suddenly filling her up with a warmth that sheltered her from the horrors that encircled her.

_All this time he's never stopped caring for me…he's never forgotten me…a girl he thought had nothing to her name, nothing to offer…a girl he thought didn't belong in his world of wealth and magic…_

"Sirius…_we've got to stop him_. We can't let this go on any longer." Lily pronounced unyieldingly, a previously extinguished fire suddenly blazing back into existence behind her disguised eyes, "We have to hurry; we don't have much time left…"

A ghost of a smile crossed Sirius' face as Lily's newfound might pulled him back to the land of the living, "It's not much further. _Let's go_."

* * *

_You are my sweetest downfall;  
__I loved you first._

_-Regina Spektor_

* * *

Author's Notes

A Lily/Sirius reunion to tide you over until the _crescendo_ that will be the next chapter. I've already began writing it; I can tell you it will be **epic**.

Thoughts on Frank's kiss? Sirius and Lily's reunion? Isn't Regulus a little _bugger_? Did you like Rudolph Brand?

Please, please, please review. Your feedback is what inspires me to continue on!

pratty-prongs-princesse

xox

www . petalintherainstory . yolasite . com


	24. Chapter 24

Petal in the Rain

* * *

Chapter 24—Starlight in the Gloom

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
but bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never write, nor no man ever loved._

-William Shakespeare

* * *

_11:30PM_

It was like all the life had been sucked out of London.

Lily closely followed behind Sirius Black as he hurried along an abandoned avenue towards the Ministry of Magic, her luxurious plum-coloured dress trailing in her wake. Hugging her arms against her chest protectively, the cool air like pinpricks, her eyes darted about the sad, dark surroundings. She bit her lower lip nervously, finding the lack of sound and movement usually present on the streets at night to be eerie; they had encountered no automobiles, no late-night diners, no beggars…not even a wild cat rummaging around in a nearby rubbish bin.

She could still barely comprehend what she had done. Pressed to make a split-second decision, Lily had completely disregarded both Dumbledore and Frank's strict instruction by escaping into the night with Sirius Black—best friend of her lost love, James Potter, and newly-discovered citizen of the wizarding world. Placing her fate into the hands of a man she knew to be irresponsible, she had left Frank behind at the Hogwarts Gala in a frantic state and had failed to inform any of her protectors of her whereabouts; a move which had almost certainly put her fragile disguise in jeopardy. A sickly feeling overwhelmed Lily as she thought of the panic likely gripping Frank at that very moment, as well as the trouble she would be in once Dumbledore discovered what she had so hastily done; however, neither circumstance compared to the possibility of James leaving for Australia.

_I can't lose him again…_

Lily paused when Sirius turned down another street—what she vaguely recognized to be Jermyn Street—and came to an abrupt halt in front of a burned-out restaurant. Following Sirius' concentrated eyes, her own fixated on a badly damaged sign by his feet. Scrutinizing the olive and gold lettering, Lily realized it read 'Wilton's'. She trembled, Roxanne's voice still vivid in her mind:

_"I ran into James Potter in the boutique…he's gone and invited us to dinner tonight with his idiot-of-a-friend,__Sirius__."_

Shaking off the ghostly recollection, Lily exchanged a poignant look with Sirius before he sighed and continued headlong down the street. Sadly stepping over the discarded sign, Lily followed, reflecting that London had become like the remnants of a Sunday roast; picked apart by greedy German fingers, its flimsy bones—that of bombed-out shops and abandoned homes—the only reminder of how delicious it once had been.

As a summer wind blew along the rue, kicking up dust from the debris, Lily wondered how much longer it would take for them to arrive at the Ministry. She secretly feared she and Sirius were too late—that James had already departed for Australia, and that the possibility of ever seeing him again had slipped away with him.

"_Oi! _Watch it, Evans!"

Like a sheep blindly following its sheppard, Lily clumsily stumbled into Sirius' solid frame, unaware that he had ceased walking again. Quidditch reflexes kicking in, he was able to catch her arm before she tumbled over, effortlessly pulling her upright. Flustered, Lily regained her balance and looked up at him bashfully: "Sorry…I didn't realize you'd stopped."

"Obviously." Sirius raised an inquiring eyebrow, rolling his eyes dismissively before directing Lily's scattered attention forward by pointing, "Look, the entrance to the Ministry is just over there."

Gazing into the misty distance, Lily blinked hesitantly, suspicious the night was playing tricks on her, for nestled against a battered brick building—the scraps of an old industrial factory, she suspected—stood a peculiar sight: a bright crimson telephone booth. Seemingly untouched by the air raid, the red enclosure shone like a beacon in the night, its painted doors and unsullied windows strangely contrasting its demolished backdrop.

Entranced by the abnormal apparition, Lily's eyes widened when Sirius effortlessly glided toward the phone booth and ostentatiously stepped inside, his mouth twisting inquisitively.

_What in the world?_

"This really isn't the time to place a personal call, Sirius…" Lily said warily as she stepped toward the phone booth in hot pursuit of the aristocrat.

Peeking her head in, she yelped girlishly when Sirius unsuspectingly grabbed her from around the waist and pulled her entirely inside the telephone booth with him. He grinned as he closed the squeaky folding door behind them, Lily uncomfortably pressed up against his chest. No matter how indomitably she wriggled, she could not escape the cramped space full-to-the-brim with the sheer girth of her ballooned skirt.

"Well isn't this romantic?" Sirius teased, raising a devilish eyebrow as he looked down upon the vexed girl swimming in fabric.

"_What do you think you are doing?" _Lily demanded outrageously, her face reddening as she pushed against Sirius' chest in protest.

"Don't get your knickers in a knot, Evans. This is the visitors' entrance to the Ministry of Magic." Sirius explained calmly, smug due to the girl's unsubstantiated anger.

"How many times do I have to tell you that my last name is _not_ 'Evans'?" Lily demanded indignantly, helplessly wedged in the claustrophobic box.

"…What?" Sirius looked unintelligibly adrift.

"_Oh, nevermind!_ Would you please tell me what we're doing in here?"

"Watch and learn, mugglebumpkin." Sirius winked, causing Lily to become even more irritated, "Now, let's see if I can remember the combination; if I recall correctly, it should spell 'MAGIC'…"

Lily watched skeptically as Sirius reached around her toward the shiny black telephone and carefully dialed a series of numbers: _6-2-4-4-2_.

"Don't you have to pick up the receiver?" Lily asked, underwhelmed when the dial whorled smoothly back into place and silence followed.

"Just wait…"

Disconcertingly, the cool, disembodied voice of an official-sounding female eventually reverberated within the telephone box, causing Lily to wince in surprise. Sirius chuckled as the startled girl scoured the small space in search of the source of the speech, ultimately pressing a finger to his lips to compel her silence: "_Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business_."

"Lord Sirius Black and Lady Aurora Rockford, here on…_a rescue mission_, let's say."

There was a prolonged pause before the female voice curtly responded, "_The Ministry of Magic is currently closed to the public. Operations will resume at 6:00AM. The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day_."

Lily blinked, unimpressed by the refutation. She turned to look at Sirius inquiringly, assuming that the confident aristocrat had been expecting resistance from the intangible official; her heart skipped a beat when she saw the dumbfounded expression troubling his fetching face.

"…Sirius? What now?"

Unbelievably, the handsome lord seemed at a loss for words. Spiraling away from Lily to mask his dimwitted expression, Sirius roughly pushed open the booth's folding door and spilled out onto the cobblestone. Lily watched guardedly as he walked a few paces away from her and crossly scratched at his scalp. The skin around his knuckles tightened as he ran his fingers through his groomed hair, the veins in his neck protruding angrily.

"_FUCK!_"

Lily recoiled, taken aback by Sirius' vocalized frustration. As he continued to air his vexation, either oblivious or uncaring of Lily's reaction, her chest constricted uncomfortably, the realization that he did not have a 'plan B' leaving her breathless. Other than the Floo Network—which had also shut down for the evening—there didn't seem to be any other way into the Ministry of Magic.

_It's almost midnight…_

Stress and anxiety getting the better of her, Lily pressed her back against the glass window of the telephone booth and sank onto the floor, helpless. Placing one hand on her pounding head, she closed her eyes and let the other fall to her side, anguish beginning to wash over her.

_I'm so close…_

Before tears began to spill down her cheeks, the hand that fell into her lap unexpectedly rested on an unusually rigid part of her dress. Looking down in confusion, Lily explored the protrusion, realizing in silent wonder that—built cleverly into the structure of her beautiful gown—there was a wand pocket which contained _her_ wand.

_Mimi must have slipped it into my dress when I was getting ready…how did I not notice it before?_

Drawing out her wand from its hiding place, Lily chanced another glance at Sirius, optimistic Humpty Dumpty had begun to put himself back together again. It appeared Sirius had instead walked further away and was now mercilessly kicking the side of a tin rubbish bin, utterly defeated. Aware that he was in no state of mind to present a rational solution to their situation, Lily heaved a sigh and climbed to her feet. Feeling ridiculous for blubbering, she twirled her wand betwixt her fingers and stared at the telephone receiver determinedly.

_Think of what you've learned so far…there must be a charm Snape's taught you…_

Lily wasn't quite sure how the visitors' entrance functioned, but she knew she had to try something clever. Taking a deep breath to clear her mind, she narrowed her eyes and pointed her wand at the shiny black telephone box, pronouncing with unparalled purpose: "_Confundus!_"

At first, nothing seemed to happen. Without glancing over her shoulder to see whether or not Sirius had noticed her magical attempt at fooling the contraption, Lily dialed _6-2-4-4-2 _and—with bated breath—waited for the dial to coil back into place.

"_Welcome to the M-Ministry of M-Magic. Please state your name and b-business_."

"Lady Aurora Rockford and Lord Sirius Black, here to recover Lord James Potter." Lily responded confidently, deciding that if she sounded convincing, the immaterial Ministry bureaucrat—who now sounded a bit shaky—would take her more seriously.

"_The M-Ministry of M-Magic is currently closed to the public. Operations will resume at 6:00AM. The Ministry of Magic wishes you a p-pleasant day_."

"Don't be absurd, it's already 7:00AM!" Lily protested persuasively, tapping her foot on the metal flooring and rapping her wand against the receiver, "If you keep me waiting much longer, I will be late!"

Desperately hoping the magical machinery had been addled by her charm, Lily suppressed a squeal of delight when it finally responded, "_Oh…yes…q-quite right._"

"_Excellent!_ Like I said, Lady Aurora Rockford here to recover Lord James Potter." Lily repeated, beaming brightly; she couldn't help but feel proud of her small magical accomplishment.

"_T-Thank you._" The female voice responded, less self-assured than before, "_Visitors, please take the below badges and attach them to the front of your robes._"

Cascading out of the metal chute where muggle money usually materialized were two square, silver badges, each reading Lily and Sirius' names followed by the word '_Trespasser_'.

"SIRIUS! GET IN HERE QUICK—I'VE CONFUNDED THE MACHINE TO TAKE US TO THE MINISTRY!" Lily screamed shrilly when the telephone booth started to shudder as if it were a missal preparing to launch into the atmosphere.

Befuddled, Sirius abruptly finished abusing the dented rubbish bin below him and scrutinized Lily; his eyes widened in amazement when he noticed the telephone box quivering and issuing mechanical- sounding clicks and bangs.

"_Merlin!_" Sirius yelped, breaking into a haphazard dash and gracelessly launching himself into the cramped telephone booth just as the door automatically slid shut and the booth began to sink into the ground like a confused elevator.

Holding onto Sirius protectively, Lily's eyes darted about worriedly when the pavement eclipsed the remaining light from the street lamps and the booth plunged into darkness. Pressed up against Sirius' chest, his heartbeat lost to the sound of dull, motorized grinding, Lily likened herself to a marine explorer diving to the undiscovered depths of the ocean.

"I don't know how you did it, or how you even thought of it, but this is _brilliant_, Lily." Sirius' voice eventually sounded above her head, his tone grateful and affectionate. Her smile was concealed by the darkness: "I assumed you hadn't received any magical training yet?"

"It's only been a month now…I'm not half bad at Charms." Lily whispered in response, resting her head against Sirius' chest and closing her eyes, claustrophobia nagging at her. Sirius had no idea how dramatically she downplayed her profound aptitude concerning the magical subject.

"James would be proud of you." Sirius wrapped a reassuring arm around Lily's shoulders to hold her closer to him; neither friend seemed bothered by the intimacy, "We wouldn't have made it to him in time if it wasn't for your quick thinking."

"We haven't made it to him yet." Lily murmured, the spicy smell of Sirius' cologne putting her fraying nerves at ease.

"We will." Sirius replied softly.

Suddenly, melancholy-blue light spilled into the telephone booth from the floor, gradually spreading upward as the structure magically emerged from the solid underground and descended into an expansive, dimly lit foyer. Lily broke apart from Sirius to stare out the window as the telephone box spookily floated to the ground. Eventually, the booth touched down upon the tiled flooring as delicately as a petal would the surface of a pond, and the door glided open, admitting them entrance to the shadowy space.

"Looks like you didn't completely fool it." Sirius commented drolly, proudly pinning one of the badges the machine had produced to his expensive dress shirt, "A Ministry badge that reads _'Trespasser'_…I'll be saving this story for my grandchildren."

Sirius' humourous sentiments were interrupted as the telephone booth uttered its final message: "_V-Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the s-security desk, which is located at the far end of the A-Atrium_."

"I think we'll be skipping that part." He smirked.

As Lily and Sirius stepped out of the structure and into the spacious foyer, the door slid closed and the telephone booth began to rise up into the ceiling, the cool female voice echoing: "_The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day…_"

Left in the gloom, Lily's pupils enlarged as she attempted to adjust to the dark, cold reception area. Waiting for Sirius' cue, she did not ignite the tip of her wand until Sirius did so. She watched wearily as he looked about the space, visibly puzzled, then pointed his wand toward one of the unlit torches mounted on the nearby wall: "_Incendio!_"

To their surprise, nothing happened.

"That's strange…" Sirius muttered blankly, looking at Lily uncertainly, "The torches won't light…and I don't think we've been deposited in the Atrium. The booth must have dropped us off somewhere else—perhaps this is a calculated method meant to confuse possible intruders…"

"What do you mean?" Lily inquired, the surrounding darkness suddenly becoming more frightful.

"There's a spell they use at Gringott's Bank…it makes the layout of the vaults more confusing to trespassers, like a labyrinth. It's still possible to find your way to your destination, but it prolongs the process—provides more time for the spell-caster to catch you." Sirius explained, frustration beginning to colour his voice again.

"I suppose we better start walking then…" Lily replied apprehensively, Sirius grunting in affirmation as the pair embarked into the darkness, the only light provided by their wands.

_I hope there's nothing hiding in the dark…_

As they wandered further into the Ministry at a brisk pace, Lily felt discouraged, for around every corner was the same expanse of highly-polished dark wood flooring and black-tiled walls. The only audible sounds were the duo's footfalls, Sirius' breathing and the occasional cuss word. Lily explored every wall and crevice with her wand, hoping to find the passage to the Atrium, but all she kept stumbling upon were the stirring golden symbols that adorned the peacock-blue, cathedral-like ceiling.

"_Wonderful_." Sirius spat sarcastically, the pair turning a corner and finding themselves at a crossroads. There were two options before them: the left corridor or the right corridor. Lily looked to Sirius questioningly as he analyzed their situation: "_Nox_."

Once the end of Sirius' wand had faded out like an ember strangled of oxygen, Sirius placed it across the open palm of his hand and muttered, "_Point me_." Like the hand of a compass magnetically reacting to the poles, Sirius' wand gradually turned on an imaginary axis, the tip steering right.

"Right it is…let's go." Sirius said to Lily wryly, igniting the end of his wand again and heading down the corridor without another word.

Lily suppressed a precipitous shiver that had unkindly snaked up her back. It hadn't been long into their decision to turn right that she had begun to feel like they were being watched. Though she obediently followed Sirius, in no position to argue his choice, she had the chilling feeling that something wasn't right—that something had somehow changed. The atmosphere felt tenser, the quiet more pronounced; even the air smelled differently.

Suddenly, Sirius stopped and raised his wand high above him, attempting to illuminate something in the distance. Lily came to a halt beside him, squinting at the scene ahead of them. She did not distinguish anything out of the ordinary.

"What is it, Sirius?" Lily questioned, his facial expression perturbing her.

"I…thought I heard something ahead." Sirius faltered, his forehead wrinkled as he continued to stare ahead, "Almost like…like a scratching noise—something sharp scraping against the wood floor."

"That's odd…I didn't hear—" Lily was cut off mid-sentence by a strange scuffing—or was it scuttling?—sound that drifted from the blackness beyond. She exchanged a curious look with Sirius, neither aware of what the source of the noise was, "S-Should we go take a look?"

Sirius face paled in recognition; "It looks like that may not be necessary…"

Lily's eyes instantly shifted to the thing Sirius was staring at. Quite boldly, out from the shadows scurried the most bizarre and hideous creature Lily had ever set eyes upon. Almost ten feet long, the creature resembled a giant scorpion, having a lethal looking stinger curled over its back and shiny, greyish armor that covered the top of its sickeningly translucent body. A repulsive and ill-tempered beast, Lily took a couple steps back, pulling at Sirius' shoulder for reassurance; he went rigid.

"_What the hell is that thing?_" Lily whispered desperately in his ear, the creature stopping a few feet away from them—as if it had just noticed the two wizards—and fearfully freezing in its place.

Sirius spoke carefully out of the side of his mouth, his eyes regarding the monster cagily, "_Blast-ended skrewt_. _Don't move_."

"_What do we do?" _Lily demanded frantically, the skrewt's grotesque form inspiring fear within her. She could not peel her eyes away from its razor-sharp stinger.

"_Hope it loses interest and goes away._" Sirius breathed acutely, his hand growing sweaty from clutching his wand so tightly.

As Lily and Sirius impatiently waited for the disgusting creature to disappear, the skrewt shifted uneasily before them, its stinger swaying. Suddenly, a high-pitched wail emanated from the beast, causing the pair to cringe apprehensively. The unnerving noise was quickly followed by further scuttling—not from the skrewt before them, they realized dreadfully—but from _numerous_ skrewts hidden in the dark.

"I think he just called his _friends!_" Lily yelped, panic swelling within her as her eyes darted about the blackness enclosing them.

"_Fucking Merlin—Confringo!_" Sirius exclaimed frantically, sending a jet of canary-yellow light barreling toward the alarmed skrewt.

Rather than blasting the nasty monster out of their way as Sirius had intended, the spell ricocheted off of the creature's shiny armor and soared toward them. Ducking, Lily screamed as the spell blew a hole in the wall behind them, sending sharp shards of tile showering in their direction. Frightened, the skrewt suddenly flushed red, its behind igniting and fire spurting out, violently propelling it forward toward Lily and Sirius.

Sirius threw himself against Lily, tackling her to the floor in order to remove her from the creature's sizzling path. She gasped as she hit the ground hard, the bones in her right arm groaning under the weight and impact of the confrontation.

"_Are you alright_?" Sirius asked from above Lily; however, she did not get a chance to answer him as they both looked up to find a small army of skrewts surrounding them, their stingers rearing above their heads maliciously.

Lily and Sirius scrambled to their feet, Lily clutching her arm, and aimed their wands at the ever increasing group of creatures. As the skrewts scuttled around them, forming a flaming circle, Lily and Sirius pressed their backs against one another to keep every angle covered. Staring down the 10-foot-long monsters, Lily could feel her wand hand shaking uncontrollably.

"S-Sirius…I don't know any defensive spells…" Lily cried softly, horrified by the appalling skrewts equipped to close in on them. She had a gut feeling that once one skrewt had mustered up enough nerve to attack, the others would quickly follow suit.

"It's going to be alright…" Sirius replied hesitantly, wracking his brain for a way to defeat the skrewts as they continued to descend upon them, "I'm going to distract them—you need to run when I tell you to and get James."

"_I'm not leaving you!_" Lily insisted hysterically, her skin crawling.

"Ready…?" Sirius breathed gravely, ignoring her protests, "One…two…"

"_Sirius, no!"_

"NOW!" Sirius yelled forcefully, turning toward the skrewts that were advancing in Lily's direction and shouting: "_BOMBARDA!_"

The skrewts that were scampering towards Lily were suddenly blown aside, Sirius' powerful spell—which was aimed at the floor—knocking them off balance and injuring their weak, unarmored underbellies. The unscathed skrewts surrounding them began to systematically charge, distressed by Sirius' strident spell.

"GO!" Sirius shouted again, a pathway having been cleared.

Lily hesitated, panicked tears welling in the corners of her eyes, then began to run through the unobstructed route—away from Sirius and the remaining skrewts. Riddled with guilt and fear, she heard Sirius cry out in agony before she could put a fair distance between them, causing her to stop and look back. Sirius was bent over awkwardly, his wand hand shooting spells at oncoming creatures while his other hand shakily held onto his right leg, which appeared to have been scorched by the fiery backside of one of the skrewts. Unable to leave him at the mercy of the predatory creatures, Lily ran back to his side and yelled with all her might: "_PROTEGO!_"

Fire that surely would have caused further damage to Sirius was temporarily blocked by Lily's shield charm; this gave Sirius a chance to momentarily recover from the initial pain of his leg and continue to launch various spells into the ever-growing crowd of blast-ended skrewts.

"What are you_—DIFFINDO!—_doing?" Sirius demanded angrily, trying as many spells as he could think of on the unyielding creatures, "_STUPEFY!_"

"Attempting to—_PROTEGO!_—save you from—_PROTEGO!_—being—_PROTEGO!_—_barbecued!_" Lily responded, continuing to shield the fiery attacks on herself and Sirius.

Her attention focused on the creatures before her, she suddenly cried out in agony when her left knee buckled from beneath her, conscious that a sneaky skrewt had snuck up behind her and thrust its stinger through her dress into her left calf. Turning to face the nasty brute, Lily angrily screamed "_STUPEFY!_", thereby sending the creature skyrocketing into the air in a flash of red and causing it to land in a conquered heap almost a hundred yards away.

"_Very good!_" Sirius encouraged enthusiastically, earning a pained smile from Lily. Both of their expressions faltered, however, when they noticed the army of skrewts was not dwindling despite their bravest attempts; rather, it seemed to be _growing_.

"We aren't going to—_PROTEGO!_—make it much longer!" Lily annunciated over the symphony of hisses, bangs and screeches coming from the blast-ended skrewts.

"We've got to make a run for—_CONFRINGO!_—the corridor over there! _Ready?_" Sirius yelled back, sending a final blasting curse at the attacking skrewts before grabbing Lily's arm and racing toward the adjoining corridor on the far side of the antechamber.

Neither Lily nor Sirius travelled with ease, the injuries they had sustained during battle inhibiting their movements. Though Lily and Sirius continued to aim shield charms at nearby skrewts, pockets of fire escaped through the cracks in their defenses and singed their clothing and exposed skin. Lily and Sirius screamed out in anguish and frustration, Lily's exposed arms and shoulders absorbing the worst of the beating.

When they finally turned the corner and entered the adjoining corridor, Sirius stopped and aimed his wand at the ceiling, just above the doorway: "_BOMBARDA!_"

Lily feebly protected her head with her hands as stone from the high ceiling rained down onto the floor and—to Sirius' delight—obscured the doorway, thereby preventing the skrewts from reaching their new location and crushing a few of the ambitious ones in the process. He laughed aloud in relief, tiredly running a hand through his dusty hair and shaking his head at the pile of rubble at his feet. They could both hear the skrewts hissing and shrieking from the other side of the barrier.

"Do you think there will be more of them ahead?" Lily asked faintly, leaning against a wall as she fought back nausea that was brought on by her throbbing leg.

"I hope not." Sirius muttered toilsomely, hobbling over to Lily's side. He cringed when he saw the burn marks patterning her arms and shoulders like morbid tattoos, aware that her decision to come back for him had caused her pain—pain which he had no ability to alleviate.

_James is going to kill me when he sees the state of her._

"Come on, darling. We're running out of time. After all we've gone through tonight, I'd hate for it to be for nothing." Sirius said softly, carefully wrapping Lily's arm around his neck to help her walk, though he also had an injured leg to deal with.

"Yes, you're right." Lily agreed resolutely, ignoring the searing pain that was spreading from the entry wound on her left leg through to the rest of her body, "Let's get James back."

* * *

_11:59PM_

James Potter awoke with a start, his heart thumping rapidly within his chest. The fireplace to his right—number thirty-seven—had suddenly burst into fanatical flames, bathing him in warmth and casting dancing shadows on the opposite black-tiled wall. He groaned and sat up from his uncomfortable spot on the floor. Working the crook out of his achy neck, James felt unnerved, a woman's scream still echoing in his ear drums. He didn't know whether it had been the fireplace or his disturbing dream that had jolted him back to life.

Reality did not provide him with respite from his disturbing nightmare, however. As he watched the hot flames crackle in the sterile fireplace before him, James felt a disturbing and deep sense of foreboding. Ever since he had arrived at the Ministry his instincts had urged him to turn around. He wasn't sure what had prompted him to suddenly regret leaving, but the disquieting feeling only seemed to intensify as the moment of his parting neared.

_Don't be a coward._

James swallowed his unpredictable nerves and elegantly climbed to his feet, ready for departure. Unsheathing his wand from his pant pocket, he pointed it toward his baggage and shrank it beyond recognition. Picking up his dollhouse-sized sack and placing it neatly in his other pocket, James unearthed the bag of floo powder Miss Edgecomb had provided to him and stepped closer to the fireplace.

_Two handfuls...five seconds…_

With her condescending instructions still fresh in his mind, James took two heaping fistfuls of floo powder and threw them into the ocher fire. Following a theatrical puff of white smoke, the fire immediately turned a dazzling emerald green, casting a ghostlike glow about the Atrium.

_You have to do this…for her._

Swallowing his jittery concerns, James stepped into the green fire and turned to face the opposite wall. His legs and hands tingled as the flames licked them, causing a tepid sensation to travel throughout the rest of his body. Closing his eyes, James blocked out the sound of Sirius' pleading voice—the voice that had been echoing in the back of his mind since resonating from his communication mirror earlier—and pictured the little pub in Australia he would be travelling to.

_The Fortune of War…what a ridiculous name for a bar. There is no fortune in war._

Intense sadness forming in the pit of his stomach, James took a deep breath, the pub's name formulating on the tip of his tongue…

Moments before the words escaped his lips, James' eyes suddenly flew open in alarm. Above the sound of the crackling flame—somewhere, buried deep in the darkness of the Ministry—James could hear _screaming_…a woman _screaming_. Aware that the gut-wrenching noise was not limited to the recesses of his mind, James stepped out of the emerald flames and towards the noise. Distancing himself from the subtle snapping of the fire, he stopped to listen carefully, second-guessing himself.

_I must be going mental…_

He gasped, the hair on his arms standing on end as the woman's voice echoed again, this time sounding even more tragic than before. Assured that he was not going mad, and that he was not alone in the Ministry of Magic as Miss Edgecomb had promised him, James tightened his grip on his wand and instinctually started to run towards the screaming—down the length of the extensive Atrium lined with floo fireplaces and around the corner toward a corridor he had never ventured down before.

The flames in fireplace number thirty-seven eventually dwindled and fizzled out—a lost opportunity.

* * *

It took everything in Lily's power to stop the painful spasms that threatened to expose her true condition to Sirius.

As they continued to walk through the black-walled corridor, Sirius supporting half of Lily's weight, Lily knew something was seriously wrong with her. Though her forehead burned like the sun, her blood seemed to be running cold, starting from the entry wound on her leg. Though she had never experienced such a sensation before, Lily surmised that the blast-ended skrewt that had skewered her with its stinger had injected some sort of poison into her; nothing else could explain the chilly toxin invading her bloodstream and the weakness gradually shutting down her body.

Though she pushed forward, every fiber of her being yearning to find James—to embrace him and tell him that everything was going to be alright—Lily knew Sirius sensed something was amiss. He shot furtive glances her way every couple of seconds, likely assessing how pale and limp she had become in his arms. While Sirius was also plastered with burns—a particularly nasty one festering on one of his legs—he clearly had not be stung by one of the gruesome monsters the Ministry had employed to protect their offices from night-time intruders.

"How are you doing?" Sirius inquired gently, unable to ignore her struggles any longer.

She smiled weakly, his concern for making her fret; she feared losing James more than dying from blood poisoning, "I'm fine, Sirius. Let's keep on."

"Darling, you don't look so good…" Sirius protested, worry evident in his eyes, "Perhaps this is a fool's errand…I shouldn't have dragged you into this in the first place."

Lily stopped and detached her arm from Sirius, using all the might she had left to keep herself standing tall, "Don't you lose hope now, Sirius. I can't turn back—I _won't_ turn back."

"But Lily…" Sirius whispered uneasily, his eyes flickering to her blood-stained dress.

She refused to acknowledge the bleeding; instead, Lily stubbornly stared him down: "Are you going to help me find James or not? I don't know if I'll be able to manage another onslaught of blast-ended skrewts on my own, but I will if I have to."

Sirius cracked a smile, "You know, you're tougher than I ever gave you credit for, Everard."

Lily laughed despite the debilitating pain now creeping up her back, "Took you long enough to get my surname correct…now come on, let's get going."

Sighing, Sirius wrapped Lily's arm around his shoulders again and continued with her down the corridor they had found themselves pointed toward. Much unlike the foyer they had originally traversed, the corridors they now navigated were thin and narrow, the ceiling so low Sirius could touch it if he tried. Twisting in every which direction, it didn't take much longer for Lily and Sirius to reach the end of the road—a plain, black-tiled wall with a golden grate near the ceiling and, most importantly, _no door_.

"_Merlin_, you must be joking!" Sirius growled irately, Lily slipping out of his grasp and melting onto the floor as he walked up to the tiled wall and pounded on it furiously, "_You've got to be fucking joking me!_"

"I…I need to sit down for a moment." Lily murmured, compartmentalizing the gravity of their situation—that they had met a dead end—as her head began to unbearably spin.

Lily's wand clattered out of her hand and rolled away from her, nestling itself against the adjacent wall. She breathed heavily, her chest feeling tight. Resting her head against the wall, she closed her eyes, trying to drown out the sound of Sirius' voracious cursing and the pain that was making her insides curl…

Venom muddling her wits, reality quickly began to evade Lily. Sirius' voice had disappeared; all she could hear was the peaceful susurrating of flowing water—like the kind that gently gushed out of elaborate fountains. She sighed, the sound soothing her, making her gradually forget about her aching body. She didn't want to leave this quiet place and return to Sirius, for the place where he resided was a place of pain and bitter disappointment. She knew in her heart of hearts that it was past midnight, that their time was up and James had left long ago—yet they hadn't wanted to give up.

_You need to wake up…you need to keep looking…_

Suddenly, Lily was being shaken pugnaciously. Barely possessing the strength to lift her eye lids, Lily groaned when she came face-to-face with a panicked Sirius Black. He was saying something to her—she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite make out the words. Ensnared in an unshakeable haze, Lily thought she must be trapped somewhere between reality and a dream, Sirius blurring in her vision and the sound of water gushing faster and faster in her ears…

"_Ennervate_!" Sirius shouted, brazenly pointing his wand at Lily's chest.

Lily gasped, her eyes flying open and her heart palpitating rapidly in her chest. She felt like she'd been administered a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart, her blood now a mixture of poison and caffeine.

"_You've got to stay with me, Lily!_" Sirius cried, unapologetically pulling her to her feet.

Shaking the stars from her eyes, Lily finally realized why Sirius was so frantic: They were both standing knee-deep in crystal-blue water.

"Wha…What happened?" Lily asked, her unfocused eyes registering the perplexity.

Sirius grasped her arm to steady her, the water rising rapidly and causing her to sway.

"I don't know—one minute I'm scavenging this wall trying to pry the grate loose, and the next, you're unconscious and water is seeping in from the end of the hallway!" Sirius barked, turning away from Lily and exclaiming, "_Confringo!_"

The hex seemed to have no effect on the sturdy, spell-proof wall. As Sirius struggled to find an exit point, Lily's breathing became shallower, the freezing water quickly rising above the cleavage of her dress. She didn't know what to do.

"_Sirius…_" Lily whined fearfully, the water rising so high that she had begun to lightly tread water, "We need to think of something—_quick!_"

"_I'm trying!_" Sirius returned, sheer horror transforming his face as the mysterious water continued to rise at an unprecedented pace, "Keep swimming until I figure something out!"

"Won't the water just drain out of that vent?" Lily attempted keenly, the golden grate capturing her attention; the nauseating pain that had previously overwhelmed her senses was the last thing on her mind now, her fight or flight instincts kicking in.

"The water is rising too quickly—it won't drain fast enough!" Sirius returned palely, simultaneously treading water and shooting multi-coloured spells out of his wand; nothing he attempted worked, the wall seemingly sphinxlike.

"_Sirius!_" Lily cried restlessly, her face barely an inch from the ceiling now.

"_Merlin, I'm so sorry Lily_—" Sirius swam up next to her, struggling to keep his face above the rising water line; he was cut off when water began to forcefully drain through the golden grate, causing the current to suck Lily and Sirius toward the too-small opening; they screamed in unison, the force of the water crushing them against the tiled wall.

"_I'm—going—to swim down—to see—if there is—another opening!_" Sirius shouted urgently, swallowing water every time he opened his mouth to speak.

"_You'll drown!_" Lily bawled, terror flashing in her _green_ eyes as she looked into Sirius' dark brown ones.

"_It's—the—only way!_" Sirius returned, gasping for what little air was left in the corridor, _"It's going to be alright!"_

"_Sirius—no!_" Lily wailed, though Sirius had already taken a deep breath and dove underwater.

She sobbed as the minutes dragged on, waiting for Sirius to resurface. She looked about anxiously for him, even dipping her head underwater for a glimpse of him, but the water was too murky and dark. She began to yell his name wildly, fear removing any social inhibitions she had, but she was certain he would not be able to hear her from the subaquatic.

"_SIRIUS_!" Lily hollered, on the verge of complete, frantic insanity.

"_HELLO?_"

"_SIRIUS? HELP—I'M ALMOST OUT OF AIR, I'M—_"

The water rose above Lily's head, drowning out her last strangled scream. She began heaving, not having been able to take a proper breath before the remaining oxygen had escaped her. Completely submerged, her wand lost somewhere on the corridor floor where she had dropped it, Lily despairingly slammed her fists against the wall, the dark water's embrace like the avaricious arms of death's fabled reaper. Bubbles escaped from her closed mouth and rose toward the ceiling as the last of her bittersweet life began to escape her.

_It can't end like this…I won't let it end like this!_

As Lily's consciousness began to wane, her brain depraved of oxygen and her lungs about to burst, something unexpected happened: The wall cracked.

* * *

"What the hell?" James breathed to himself as he uneasily barreled down the hallway toward the unknown woman's shrieks of trepidation.

As he continued to chase after the disturbing voice, his situation continued to grow stranger: Without warning, James was no longer sprinting across a dry wooden floor, but a floor slick with odorless, crystaline water.

_Maybe Myrtle haunts the Ministry lavatories as well…_

Too agitated to turn around and dismiss the strange occurrence as poltergeist-related, James hurried forward, the hem of his jeans becoming soaked due to the ankle-deep water. The urgent, near manic nature of the distant screaming propelled him to run at a break-neck speed into the dark, every cry like a knife twisting in his heart. There was something truly terrifying about the all-too-real sound, yet he could not bring himself to exercise caution and seek outside help.

James inhaled sharply, coming to a halt when he finally reached his unexpected destination. Laid out before him was an expanse of black-tiled wall housing a grate located near the ceiling. From the grate gushed a torrent of unexplained water—enough to cause him to take a couple steps backward for fear of being knocked off his feet by the powerful flow.

"_Finite Incantatem!_" James bellowed instinctually, brandishing his wand and pointing it toward the streaming water; nothing happened.

_Damn, it must be magically altered somehow…_

"_I'm—going—to swim down—to see—if there is—another opening!_"

"_You'll drown!_"

"_It's—the—only way!_"

"_Sirius—no!_"

"HELLO?" James bellowed robustly, his ears attuned to the struggling voices on the other side of the wall. His heart plunged to his stomach when he heard his best friend's name escape from the lips of the terrified girl—the source of the screaming.

_What the fuck is Sirius doing here?_

"_SIRIUS? HELP—I'M ALMOST OUT OF AIR, I'M—_"

Suddenly the female voice was cut off, causing James' blood to run ice-cold. He waded through the growing pool of water toward the open grate, rattled: "HELLO? SIRIUS? IF ANYONE CAN HEAR ME, I'M GOING TO GET YOU BOTH OUT OF THERE! JUST HOLD ON!"

Without considering the consequences, James pointed his wand toward the sturdy wall and thought of the most powerful, explosive spell he knew: "_BOMBARDA MAXIMA!_"

Less theatrically than he had predicted, the wall did not burst into millions of shards; rather, a thick fissure suddenly materialized diagonally across the wall, spurts of water expelling from the tiny lesions within it.

James drew back his wand again, prepared to launch an identical spell at the seemingly fortified wall; however, just as he was about to utter the words, a series of smaller fissures suddenly snaked across the wall, forming an intricate pattern. Then, like an aquatic fireworks display, the wall exploded under the pressure of the swelling water, hitting James like a tonne of bricks and knocking him backwards off his feet. Swept up in the aggressive surge, James was haphazardly carried back down the hallway he had previously maneuvered, unable to fight against the unyielding force. As his body was rammed hard against one solid wall after another, James attempted to keep his head above the water, taking deep breathes when he felt himself about to be pulled under.

The tidal wave dispersed dramatically when it spilled into the Atrium, the huge space thinning out its contents. James howled when he was slammed against something especially rigid, his head thumping the mass so hard that he momentarily blacked out.

_Sirius…_

His body limp against _The Fountain of Magical Brethren_, James sorely opened his eyes to stare into the majestic face of a statuesque centaur, distant, distorted voices mingling with the severe ringing in his ears…

* * *

Lily coughed violently, a combination of water and blood rushing from her constricted gullet. Winded, her chest heaved uncontrollably as her lungs tasted delectable oxygen, the life-saving substance like a drug satiating her body's most fervent compulsion. Wiping her mouth clean, her vision clearing as her heartbeat began to calm, she shakily pushed herself upright from the wet floor, the outline of a magnificent golden fountain glimmering in the shadowed space beyond.

"I don't know about you, but I will be sending a _strongly-worded_ owl to the Minister about this." Sirius Black muttered, noiselessly materializing at Lily's side, his shirt ripped and his left eye as black and as round as a piece of coal.

"_Sirius_—you're alright!" Lily practically whimpered, her voice breaking as he helped her to her feet and the pair enveloped one another in a relieved, distressed hug, "When you didn't break the surface again, I'd thought, I'd thought—"

"Didn't I tell you? I'm indestructible." Sirius murmured into her shoulder, his grin disappearing when he pulled away from Lily to assess her state, "Are you alright? You look like you've warred just about as well as I have."

Lily laughed hollowly, her previously throbbing leg and torso beginning to feel unnervingly numb. Despite his spell work, she was finding it increasingly hard to focus on Sirius, the gears in her brain slowing to a grind: "I don't have a black eye like you, do I? I'd h-hate to look so stupid."

He chortled warily, cupping her cheek affectionately: "No black-eye, love, but you do look like your old self…green eyes and all."

"What do you mean?" Lily inquired disconcertedly, eventually discovering her reflection on the slick floor below. The girl that stared back at her with startling emerald eyes was soaked to the bone, her once polished hairdo unkept, her bloodied dress shredded to the point where her ankles were exposed, and her arms and chest checkered with burns. The magical alterations Dumbledore had made to her hair and eyes had vanished, replaced now with her natural colouring.

"I imagine the flooding doubled as a charm called _The Thief's Downfall_. It's meant to wash away all magical concealments and enchantments." Sirius explained, his image appearing behind Lily's in the pool of water before them, "I'll have to try and change you back before we—"

"_Sirius? Is that you?_"

Lily gasped, her eyes immediately flickering upwards from her reflection and narrowing in on the approaching figure in the distance. Sirius, too, was caught off guard by the voice, his whole body tensing when the suspicious voice of James Potter echoed throughout the cold and empty Ministry Atrium.

"My God…he never left…" Sirius declared, rendered spellbound, his eyes growing wide as James continued to approach them; he grasped Lily's wrist soothingly, his tone mollifying, "Lily, give me a moment to speak with him. This is going to be an awful shock to him…allow me soften the blow."

Unable to form a coherent response, her heart aflutter with nerves and her head dizzy with uncertainty, Lily simply nodded as Sirius released her arm and advanced toward James in order to prevent him from getting too close her. She watched, enthralled, when Sirius finally connected with his best friend, trading a brotherly hug with him.

_He's really alive…_

Tears sprang to her eyes, but they were not the product of her weakened state; rather, they were the product of the intense and penetrating happiness that suffused her very soul. James Potter wasn't just a fairytale a lonely school girl had dreamed up to keep herself sane—he was _real_, flesh and blood, and just as she remembered him: tall, broad-shouldered, with messy chocolate hair and impish eyes that twinkled from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Seeing him standing there now, dressed in plain clothes, his wet hair falling into his handsome, concerted face, she could barely withhold her urge to run to his side and greedily drink from his lips. It was torture for her not to be in his arms at that very moment; not to be able to wrap hers around his neck and tell him how much he meant to her, how scared she had been without him.

It had only been two months, but it had felt like an eternity to Lily.

"James…" Lily called out softly, mistrustful of her quivering bravery.

Her velvety voice was barely audible above the thrum of the distant golden fountain, yet it was enough to capture James' immediate attention. Her heart failed her when—from over Sirius' shoulder—his stunned eyes broadened as if he were witnessing a miracle. When they finally met her eyes, Lily thought she might evaporate under his smoldering gaze, the sheer adulation and allegiance that veiled his stare causing her to crave him so fervently that it physically pained her.

_James, my love…you've come back to me at last._

* * *

As Sirius neared him, his body and face cut-up and bruised, James cautiously eyed the woman standing aloof in the distance. He could not make out her features, but, like Sirius, it was clear that she was injured quite terribly. Sirius' presence at the Ministry was as baffling to him as the tidal wave he had unpredictably unleashed, but though he could not fathom a logical explanation for any of it, and though Sirius had single-handedly prevented him from leaving for Australia that night, James felt an inexplicable sense of relief, as if the night had fatefully unfolded as it should have.

"_Thank Merlin_ you're still here—I thought I was too late." Sirius announced as he reached him, the relief and emotion perforating his usually animated voice taking James aback.

Though he accepted his best friend's earnest embrace, Sirius' strange behaviour instantaneously caused him to feel uncomfortably apprehensive, "Sirius, what's happened? Are you alright? What's going on?"

_Something must be terribly wrong…_

Sirius' face became stoic, his eyes fraught with unspoken sentiment. James braced himself for a shock, Sirius regarding him much the same way he had when he had holed himself up in abandoned Potter properties to fight his prodigious grief and guilt. When Sirius supportively grabbed his shoulder and suddenly smiled—a true, genuine show of contentment—James felt even more mystified, unable to foresee what Sirius was about to reveal.

"James…I've learned the most wonderful news at the Gala tonight. I couldn't let you leave before you heard the truth; before you _knew_."

"_Knew what_, Sirius?" James demanded rather forcefully, his face paling as the anticipation cruelly resurrected some of his most impossible desires.

"It's Lily, James. She's _alive_."

The hair on the back of James' neck bristled. He looked at Sirius so fiercely, so powerfully that—for a fleeting moment—Sirius thought he might attack him. James' heart beat furiously in his chest as he scrutinized Sirius' every feature, looking for any sign of jest or falsehood. When Sirius stared back at him earnestly, silently pleading for his faith and confidence, the walls of James' resolve fractured, allowing a renewed sense of hope to seep through the cracks.

"Is…is it_ true_?" James managed faintly, his voice breaking as familiar grief—derivative of his broken heart—choked him.

"Yes mate. She wasn't in London when it was bombed—she escaped the attack." Sirius explained gently, squeezing James' shoulder. He watched as James disbelieving shook his head, coughing to cover-up the boyish sobs of relief that were escaping from him; then, quite suddenly, James began to laugh, a deep, festive sound that accompanied his tears.

"My God, she's really alive?" James cried elatedly, his eyes red with unpretentious emotion as he bore into Sirius, who appeared shaken by his best friend's heartrending reaction to the news.

"You haven't even heard the best part." Sirius said mysteriously, wearing his characteristic Cheshire-cat grin, "James…she's _here_."

James could barely register the words. His surroundings seemed to smear and blend like the colours and shapes of an impressionist painting, his heart decelerating as light gathered at the center of his portrait and illuminated it's beautiful, angelic focal point. Warmth spread throughout his body and settled in his chest, as if he were standing at the banks of an ocean with the sun shining down upon him, as the moment he had longed for—_fantasized_ about during his darkest moments of sorrow—was unfurling before his very eyes.

"_James…_"

Hearing her voice, as temperate and sweet as he remembered it, was confirmation of the hope that amplified within him and dispelled the demons that had haunted him since his return from the war. How pleasurable it was to hear his name on her lips, to realize that life hadn't lost its meaning—that the one who had stolen his heart upon first glance was alive and he would not have to live without her any longer!

When his eyes finally met her beautiful green ones, elation as he had never experienced it permeated from his every pore. Standing there in a ruined purple gown, her red hair wet and tangled, he thought she had never looked so lovely. He could not describe how the adoration reflecting in her eyes made him feel, but knew that he could not be apart from her any longer.

Still not recovered from the shock of her presence, James wordlessly side-stepped Sirius and drifted towards his heavenly seraph, his feet seemingly moving on their own accord. As he neared her, he perceived the tears collecting on her cheeks, the desperation and yearning transforming her features, and before he knew it, he had his strong arms enthusiastically wrapped around her small frame, his fingers passionately intertwined in her damp hair and his lips caressing her temple.

"_Lily, my Lily…_" James breathed wistfully as he held her close, sobs suddenly overcoming him as he found his lost love protectively sheltered in his arms.

"I can't believe you're here…I can't believe I've found you!" Lily cried emotively, burying her head in his chest and clinging to him desperately.

"I thought I'd lost you." James whispered despairingly, drawing his face away from the heat of her neck so he could meet her eyes; she was moved by the anguish that radiated from him, "I promised you I would come back for you—but you weren't there. _Merlin_, I'd believed the worst…believed you'd perished in the bombing…that I hadn't protected you…"

"Oh James…" Lily said softly, fresh tears stealing down her face as she reached up to caress his stubbled face, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you came back. I was sick with worry while you were gone—so afraid that you wouldn't make it back to me, that I'd never see you again!"

"But we _have_ made it back to one another, Lily. I can't tell you how happy I am… " James uttered hoarsely, looking down at Lily rapturously, "It killed me to think that I never told you…told you how much _I love you_, Lily. How desperately in love with you I am."

Lily's heart leapt triumphantly, James' love confession powerfully affecting her and fuelling her own ardent passion for him. How she had survived two long months without him, she did not know. The thought of leaving him again seemed impossible to her now. Her dormant feelings for James—previously trumped by her instinct for survival in the magical world—now set her aflame with ardor. She could not imagine ever experiencing a more blissful moment than this.

"James Potter…from the moment you found me in your garden, _I have loved you_. We were from different worlds, but that did not stop me from wanting you, from falling in love with you." Lily said softly, her benevolent tears reflective of how deeply she felt for him.

James grinned from ear to ear, euphoria filling him from head to toe as Lily fervidly returned his love; without another word, he suavely leaned forward and avidly kissed her, snaking his hands around her lower back and into her thick hair, deepening the caress. As they passionately embraced one another, both dizzy with the realization that they were together again, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. Once their lips parted after their exultant reunion, they locked eyes again and smiled: James grabbed Lily around the waist and suddenly began to twirl her in his strong, protective arms, causing the lovers to both laugh in jubilation.

"_James!_" Lily squealed girlishly, giggling as he spun her around in delight. Once he reigned in his outpouring of emotion, he gently set her back on her feet.

"I'm sorry—I'm just so happy." James breathed huskily, kissing Lily's temple and running his thumb over her lower lip. As he drank in her bedraggled appearance, reality began to suddenly seep back into focus, his eyes befalling the burns on her arms and the blood on her dress, "_My God_—you're hurt! _Who's done this to you?_"

Lily looked down at the burns on her arms and frowned, suddenly feeling self-conscious; she was literally a bloody mess—practically a disaster compared to how lovely she had looked at the Gala.

_I must appear hideous…_

Before Lily could respond to James and tell him the harrowing tale of her arrival at the Ministry, James furiously turned toward his best friend, growling his name: "_Sirius…_"

Sirius tentatively approached the couple, his beaten-up face feigning innocence; it was an expression he often wore during his schooldays at Hogwarts: "Listen James, it was no easy task reaching you…Lily and I may have encountered some…_problems_…along the way."

"_Look at her, Sirius!_ How the hell could you let that happen to her?" James demanded angrily, turning his attention back to Lily and cupping her cheek tenderly, "Don't worry, I'll get you the best medical treatment money can buy—"

"James, listen! It's not Sirius' fault; he tried to protect me." Lily chastised, though his affection for her filled her with warmth, "Sirius and I broke into the Ministry in order to stop you from leaving for Australia, and neither of us anticipated the obstacles we encountered along the way—"

"_Obstacles?_"

"Blast-ended skrewts, some sort of labyrinth charm—oh, and that _charming_ little tidal wave meant to drown us." Sirius jumped in, looking cross, "Overkill, if you ask me."

"I can't believe you both risked your lives for me…" James replied solemnly, reaching down to clutch Lily's hand; then, very abruptly, a glaring reality became apparent to him, "I promise, Lily, as soon as I figure out how to get us out of here, we'll get you healed straight away…then I'll explain everything. I'm sure you must have questions about where you are, what you've seen…about some of the things Sirius and I can do…"

Despite how sincerely James regarded her—how gentle and caring his approach was to her perceived ignorance about the magical world—Lily could not help but crack a grin, "Do you mean questions about you and Sirius being _wizards_?"

James blinked, surprised but Lily's nonchalant manner, then raised an eyebrow at Sirius, "How much have you told her, Black?"

"She knows more than you think, mate. Weren't you listening to me? I told you I discovered her at the _Hogwarts Gala_…she's been living with Dumbledore there since the London bombings. Oh, that reminds me; here's your wand, Everard—wouldn't want to lose that!"

James' mouth fell open stupidly as Lily chuckled lightly and gratefully accepted her wand from Sirius. Slipping the beautiful item into her concealed dress pocket, she squeezed James' hand supportively and offered him a rueful smile, "You're not the only one who has some explaining to do, James. I've uncovered a lot in your absence—including the fact that I'm a witch."

"She's got some aristocratic blood in her, too. Looks like we're all cut from the same cloth—you're going to make your mother proud after all, Potter. Shame." Sirius shook his head amusedly, simpering at James' dazed expression.

"A witch? Dumbledore? Hogwarts?" James whispered bewilderedly, his eyes desperately roaming Lily's face for answers, "Is it…is it really true?"

"There is so much to tell you! I could barely register the news myself—my life has so dramatically changed in the past month, it's been tremendous." Lily replied gently, wrapped her arms around his neck and stroking his hair-line, "Soon it will all make sense—"

They broke apart when a brilliant, hoary substance suddenly soared out of the ceiling of the Atrium and—like a shooting star—cascaded toward the three conversing friends, slamming into the floor like a fallen comet and causing a burst of light to vibrate within the dark space. Lily, James and Sirius concurrently shielded their eyes from the vivid spell, the illumination foreign to their retinas: When their eyes eventually adjusted, they focused on the translucent, wispy form of a valiant looking lion, its sharp eyes fearless and its mane long and heroic.

As Lily observed the figure in awe-struck silence, James and Sirius traded knowing glances: They were not astonished when Frank Longbottom's patronus eventually began to speak to them in a clear, characteristically authoritative tone, "_Sirius Black: I swear on Merlin's beard, if you've taken Aurora Rockford somewhere, I am first going to wring your neck with my bare hands, then chop off your head as if you're a condemned hippogriff, then serve it to Lord Dumbledore on a silver platter. If she's with you, I advise you let Dumbledore and I know __**immediately**__."_

When Frank's violent threat to Sirius ended, his feline patronus emitted an ominous roar and dissipated into thin air, leaving behind a flurry of frothy smoke. Sirius and Lily exchanged alarmed glances, James looking between them in utter confusion.

"Who is Aurora Rockford, and why does Longbottom think you've got her, Sirius? Not that you don't have a history of disappearing with other men's wives, but Longbottom doesn't strike me as the insecure type." James mused, Lily gasping disgracefully at the very thought.

"_Let's not bring up the past now._" Sirius snapped, glaring at his amused best friend, "And I'd wipe that pleased smirk off your face; Longbottom thinks I've gone ahead and pilfered_ your_ girlfriend, as a matter of fact."

"_What?_" James demanded brusquely, his hold on Lily's hand tightening; she rolled her eyes discreetly.

"It's a long story…" Lily mumbled awkwardly, James turning to look at her expectantly; she took a deep breath—feeling nervous—and began her tale, unsure of where to begin: "Dumbledore sent Frank, Kingsley and Moody to retrieve me from St. Madeline's a month ago because he believed Voldemort was looking for me. The four of them have been guarding me at Hogwarts ever since. One way of protecting me has been to change my identity—Dumbledore has come up with an elaborate plan to pass me off as Lady Aurora Rockford, his niece. I was presented at the Hogwarts Gala earlier today, where I met Sirius, explained to him what had happened, and secretly set off with him to stop you from leaving. I imagine Dumbledore and Frank are a tad worried about me…"

James' face had gone ghostly white, his expression that of shock and upset. Lily covered both of his hands with hers, resting them on her chest and nervously awaiting his reaction. His face eventually transformed, deep lines settling in his forehead and his eyes filling with angry concern: "_What could Voldemort possibly want with you? How does Dumbledore know this?_"

"I…I don't know how Dumbledore knows what he does, but he's told me that Voldemort thinks I possess the power to vanquish him—that I threaten his reign of terror. I know it sounds ridiculous; I've only been studying magic for a month now." Lily explained sheepishly, still unable to comprehend how Voldemort could possibly consider her a danger; she imagined James and Sirius found the thought to be silly and outlandish, "Dumbledore has been so wonderful to me; put this intricate plan in place so that I could maintain a semblance of a life while remaining hidden. No one knows about my true identity except him, Frank, Kingsley and Moody, and they've all devoted themselves to keeping me safe. I don't know what I've done to deserve their protection."

Sirius grinned in response to Lily's explanation, his arms folded across his chest, "I can see the look on Frank's face now: When he realizes James, Remus and I all know your true identity, he's going to pop a blood vessel. I doubt they factored us into the rescue plan."

"_Rescue?_" James echoed sharply, hypersensitive to the word where it applied to Lily.

"Well…yes…I suppose you could say I was rescued." Lily bite her lip nervously, "Two death eaters showed up to St. Madeline's and attempted to abduct me. I managed to escape with a little help from Moody and Kingsley—Frank then took me to Dumbledore…"

"_WHAT?_" James bellowed furiously, his jaw tightening and his eyes flashing red. Lily watched him warily, startled by his powerful anger; she had never seen him so infuriated before.

"Mate, calm down…" Sirius began uncertainly.

Too angry to respond, James broke away from Lily and stormed in the opposite direction; he brandished his wand and pointed it at the _Fountain of Magical Brethren_, frustration evident in his voice when he spat: "_DIFFINDO!_"

Lily yelped when the golden head of the fountain's wizard was suddenly severed from its neck and hit the ground with a heavy thud, rolling in the opposite direction. Like Sirius, it appeared James needed a magical outlet to manage his anger.

"_Merlin_, Potter! You're acting like a lunatic!" Sirius complained loudly, glowering.

"I'm sorry…" James breathed when he had come to grips with his anger, guiltily sauntering back over to Lily's side and recapturing her hands; he ignored Sirius: "I just…I can't stand the thought of Voldemort being so close to _having you_. The whole thing is difficult for me to wrap my head around. Less than an hour ago I had thought you were dead, and now not only are you alive, but you are a _witch_ who is being targeted by the most evil wizard currently afflicting the magical world."

"It does sound a bit farfetched, doesn't it?" Lily whispered meekly, kissing the top of James' hand gently, "Perhaps more than you originally bargained for?"

James reluctantly chuckled as his lips brushed her cheek, his temper beginning to subside: "You won't scare me away that easily—not now that I have you back and all to myself."

_Just wait until he hears about Frank…_

"Good…but I think I'd better stop there in case your temper causes you to destroy the entire Ministry." Lily mocked, slinking her arms around James' neck; the pain in her leg began to tersely resurface again, the adrenaline and excitement of seeing James no longer enough to staunch the agony.

"How I've missed you…" James whispered zealously in response to Lily's humor, grabbing her and kissing her heatedly; he immediately stopped when she cringed, his hand having settled on a burn on her exposed shoulder, "Are you in pain, Lily?"

"Yes…I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to be able to last, if I'm being honest." Lily replied, attempting to muster a smile but failing miserably, her injuries suddenly catching up with her, "I can't be brought to the hospital like this—I will need to be treated at Hogwarts. Dumbledore will have to change my appearance back to what it was."

"She's right; they'll ask too many questions at St. Mungo's. _Merlin knows_, if the papers find out about this the three of us will be breaking news. I very much doubt that Dumbledore wants Lily on the front page of _Witch Weekly_ for burglarizing the Ministry of Magic." Sirius explained sensibly, twiddling his wand between his fingers, "The only way we are getting out of here is by side-along-apparation with a Ministry official who has the power to do so at any hour—namely Longbottom, Shacklebolt and Moody."

"Right." James nodded his head, his expression becoming serious as he worriedly regarded Lily, "We can all expect to be thoroughly interrogated once we get back to Hogwarts—everyone ready?"

Lily sighed, unprepared for the wrath of Lord Frank Longbottom; she noticed Sirius, too, appeared on edge, likely imagining how severely he was going to be reprimanded for instigating the recklessness that had ensued that night, "We'll get through this together…right, Sirius?"

"All for one and one for all." Sirius murmured, evidently dreading the forthcoming events. Wielding his wand purposefully, he pointed it and murmured "_Expecto Patronum_." A bright, wispy substance emitted from the end of his wand and gathered on the ground in front of him; before Lily's eyes, the indistinguishable mass formed into the shape of a powerful looking canine. With a hunched body, pointy ears, a long snout, and fat, formidable paws, Lily thought the dog represented Sirius unusually well.

The patronus sashayed up to Sirius and settled at his feet, panting genially. Sirius knelt down before the ghostly beast, intensely focused on it; he spoke clearly, choosing his words carefully: "This message is for Frank Longbottom. I am with James and Aurora in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Aurora and I have been injured and will need medical attention at Hogwarts; however, we are presently safe and alone. Aurora's magical alterations have been compromised. We await your arrival."

Once Sirius had finished providing his fastidious message to the silvery hound, the patronus wagged its tail excitably and hurdled into the air, effortlessly bobbing along the dark floors before it suddenly disappeared through one of the black-tiled walls, thereby plunging the Atrium into relative darkness again. The three friends quietly watched the patronus withdraw, each insecure about the coming events.

"Why did you call me 'Aurora'?" Lily inquired softly, her head suddenly finding James' strong shoulder as her remaining strength dissipated; he tucked his arm around her waist to support her weight, worriedly watching her fade before turning to look at Sirius for his answer.

Lily did not hear his reply.

"In case the message is overheard." Sirius responded, irritably pulling at the exaggerated collar of his dress shirt as he paced back and forth, his brow slick with sweat. When she did not react straight away, he looked up inquiringly; the image that greeted him caused him wheeze: "_James!_"

Following Sirius' horrified eyes, James looked down at Lily, his breath retreating from his lungs: The battered girl was unconscious, half of her dress now stained with ruby red blood—blood that threw into relief he cloying, colourless cheeks and ashen lips. James swept Lily's lifeless body up into his arms, cradling her head in the crook of his neck. He looked at Sirius pleadingly: "_Where the fuck is Longbottom?_"

On cue, three resounding **cracks** sounded throughout the black, damp Atrium, causing the best friends to flinch in unison. Lord Frank Longbottom, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody appeared out of thin air, the force of their apparitions triggering a symphony of ripples to caress the surface of the stagnant water surrounding them. As the three powerful wizards approached, Sirius suppressed a gulp while James tightened his grasp on Lily's comatose figure.

Though both friends were prepared for a heated battle of words, both wondered if it would come to a battle of wands.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**I have created a facebook page for this story. It's called 'Petal in the Rain by pratty-prongs-princess'. Please 'like' the page to follow the story, receive clues, ask me questions and interact with other readers!**

www . facebook pages / Petal-in-the-Rain-by-pratty-prongs-princesse/ 29784351364773

So, it's what you've all been waiting for! Lily and James are finally reunited! Was it everything you'd thought it would be? Have you been plotting my death since I released chapter 23 almost a year ago? I can hardly blame you! I had this chapter almost half-way through when my computer died and I lost everything. That was a tad disheartening (this is understated). I also caught someone plagiarizing my story word-for-word on another site (this was enraging). It took a while for me to muster the will to build anew. If you ever encounter this story plagiarized on another site, please please _please_ bring it to my attention so I can defend myself. And—though I appreciate how much some of you love this story—please do me a big favour and write your own!

So, I know many of you are put-off by how long it takes me to review, and for that I apologize; with that being said, the life of a twenty-three-year-old is a busy one and I just so happen to be a bit of a perfectionist—hence your long waits. For the last year I've been incredibly wrapped up in my corporate job, and I put aside most of my creative projects. But guess what? I'm back and ready to roll!

At the end of the day (or this chapter), please do me the courtesy of **reviewing**. The more reviews I receive, the quicker you shall get your next chapter (and I've already started the next one to boot!) I always strive to beat the number of reviews I have received for the previous chapter…and I received **170+** for chapter 23! So let's see if you can beat that! This storyline is going to exciting places, I can promise you that. I'd love to hear your thoughts about the chapter, and where you think I'm going with these characters in the future.

Thank you for reading and reviewing, and please continue to do so! Until next time dear readers!

pratty-prongs-princesse


	25. Chapter 25

Petal in the Rain

* * *

Chapter 25—Castle of Glass

_Bring me home in a blinding dream,__  
Through the secrets that I have seen.__  
Wash the sorrow from off my skin,__  
And show me how to be whole again._

-Linkin Park

* * *

Inconspicuously tucked away in one of the dungeon's lonely, dank corridors, the potions cupboard was one of Severus Snape's favourite haunts at Hogwarts castle—next to his beloved library, that is. Though the vicinity was usually crawling with young Slytherin students either heading to or departing from their cherished silver-swathed Common Room, the dungeons were sparse and quiet now, the autumn semester not commencing for another two weeks. As Snape perused his potions stores methodically, scribbling down notes concerning overstocked or missing ingredients on a piece of tattered parchment, he silently dreaded the upcoming school year.

Although he was a professor at Hogwarts and had been for nearly three years, Snape did not take much pleasure in teaching the school's snobbish, aristocratic pupils—most of whom regarded him with an air of indignation and disdain. He grimaced irritably, plucking discarded bezoars off of the cabinet's freshly-swept floor and meticulously depositing them on their correct shelves: What did the heirs and heiresses to pureblood fortunes need potions lessons for? Very few—_if any_—would graduate to become healers, alchemists or inventors, the magical world already at their disposal. They had no need of fame, fortune or respect—all of which they had been privileged with upon birth.

Some days Snape wanted to throw in the towel; simply march up to Albus Dumbledore's office and announce his resignation. How could he be expected to teach these wealthy _numbskulls_ when they had no desire to learn and held no respect for their half-blood tutor? In his mind, they didn't deserve to be there; they _shouldn't_ be allowed to attend at one of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world. But, though these entitled children were not worthy of the opportunity presented to them, nor his vast knowledge and counsel, they would always be permitted to remain.

_Shouldn't my exceptional talents be put toward more principled, impressive disciplines? _

There was no denying that he was a remarkable potions master at his age, having attempted and executed brews that were so dangerous—_so difficult_—that they could not be included in standard textbooks. He scoffed, slamming down an ampoule of powdered unicorn horn: Though Snape had always been top of his potions classes, Professor Slughorn had never invited him to join his infamous _Slug Club_—an association of intellectually gifted, affluent or well-connected students he believed would bloom into the leaders of tomorrow. He was well aware that Slughorn formed the superficial club in order to gloat about his connections later in life; however, it still stung not to be included in the club despite his obvious academic endowments. He supposed his exclusion had something to do with his lack of social prowess and _pure_ blood.

_Like I would have accepted an invitation to join that group of dimwitted dunderheads in the first place…_

The only wizard who had ever recognized Snape's remarkable magical talent had been Lord Albus Dumbledore; yet, even the elderly wizard seemed hesitant to wholly embrace him. When Snape had first requested to work at Hogwarts, he had been denied the position he had initially applied for: Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Even more dazzling than his capacity for potion-making was his propensity concerning his favourite subject, Defence Against the Dark Arts. There was no denying his skill: He had received top marks in the field, ranking high in the famed _International Dueling Games_ during his seventh year at Hogwarts and even pioneering some spells of his own imagining. Nevertheless, Dumbledore had not awarded him the position, instead appointing him Potions Professor.

His yearning to become Defence Against the Darks Arts Professor was only matched by his bitter disappointment at being denied it. Though he had accepted the Potions position—an alternative which meant he could live at the only place he had ever considered home—he was resentful of Dumbledore's ruling, unable to pinpoint the logic behind it. Snape had been clandestine concerning his decision to understand the very art he was studying to defend: _dark magic_. How better to recognize how to overcome the dark arts than to practice dark magic? He'd done so quite diligently for years; pilfering books from the 'Restricted Section' of the library during his Hogwarts days and practicing in empty classrooms at night; furtively maneuvering Knockturn Alley and experimenting with cursed objects; altering his appearance and slipping into shady pubs located on the outskirts of magical hamlets in order to converse with vampires. Could Dumbledore have become privy to his rather disgraceful behaviour? Snape surmised that if the great wizard had knowledge concerning his felonious activity, he certainly wouldn't have allowed him to teach young, impressionable children. So why, then, did he exercise caution concerning the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?

_Everything I have done has been to better myself…in the pursuit of knowledge and comprehension…_

As Snape reached the top rung of his rickety ladder his foot slipped, causing the left side of his body to slam into the wooden shelving and shatter one of the items in his cloak pocket. Growling at his gaucheness, he easily slithered to the bottom of the ladder and produced his wand, offhandedly muttering "_Reparo_." The tip of his wand glowed red as the bottle in his pocket repaired itself. With another flick of his wand, it obediently floated out from its place in his robes and eased into his open hand. Snape turned it over in his palm, reading his slightly smudged, curly cursive on the flagon's label.

_Wiggenweld._

Depositing the small bottle back onto its proper shelf, Snape's eyes shifted to the fresh batch of Calming Draught he had prepared earlier that afternoon. As he peered into the copper cauldron to judge the colouring of the potion, he silently wondered how Aurora had managed at the party: Had the Calming Draught he had administered to her provided her with enough confidence to mingle with the multitude of partygoers she so feared? Her admission still surprised him: He had never met an aristocrat _afraid_ of a posh party. Rather, the ones he had encountered _thrived_ in such environments. What could such a beautiful, clever girl like her have to worry about? Her relation to the most intelligent and well-respected wizard in the United Kingdom was enough to carry her through alone.

Snape grit his teeth: The young society men would certainly be tripping all over themselves trying to impress her. They hadn't a clue who Lady Aurora Rockford was or the extraordinary magical talents she possessed—and likely they wouldn't care—but they undoubtedly wanted her for themselves. She had beauty, prestige and a pure bloodline; attributes that amounted to the perfect trophy witch. Snape knew that whichever pompous wizard greedily scooped her up first would likely not allow her to develop her academic interests—a fact that angered him immeasurably. To him, unexploited talent was a terrible crime.

As Snape leaned against the cupboard's ladder, his mind suddenly preoccupied with the erogenous image of Aurora in her purple gown, helplessly begging him for his potion provisions, a piece of pale parchment magically shaped in the form of a bird flitted in through the open doorway and peaked at his ear urgently. Annoyed by the intrusion, Snape snatched up the flapping paper and tore it apart with his long fingers: Who in the castle would send him a memo at one o'clock in the morning?

_Severus,_

_Bring your stores of powdered bezoar up to the Hospital Wing immediately. Dumbledore's niece in critical condition following a venomous sting. Do not delay._

_-Madam Pomfrey _

Snape's black eyebrows furrowed; _venomous sting?_ Did he read Madam Pomfrey's cursive correctly? What plant or animal in attendance at the Hogwarts Gala could possibly have _stung_ Aurora? Snape's mind buzzed with the incomprehensible probabilities as he glided to the opposite end of the cramped cupboard and extracted a glass phial labelled 'Powdered Bezoar'. In what felt like seconds, he had pocketed the medication and torn out of the dungeons like a deranged bat, flying up the magical staircases and down the third floor corridor toward the Hospital Wing's double doors.

As Snape neared his destination he heard voices hovering in the distance. Slowing his pace, he winced, suddenly realizing whom some the voices belonged to. Before the approaching wizards could stumble upon him, Snape covertly ducked behind _Gunhilda of Gorsemoor_, the statue of the one-eyed, humpbacked witch, and pulled his heavy woolen cloak tightly around his shoulders. Sinking into the shadows, he secretly sneered at the wizards unknowingly passing him by, carefully attuned to their conversation.

"Is this _really_ necessary, Longbottom?"

"It _certainly_ is, Potter. Wouldn't you agree that the circumstances surrounding your reappearance are just a _tad_ odd?"

"Look, James had no idea Aurora and I—"

"_You keep out of this, Black_."

"I recommend you watch your tongue, _Longbottom_. If you think you have any authority over Sirius or I, you are _sadly mistaken_."

"And _I_recommend you check your arrogance_, Potter_. Neither of you realize the damage you could have done tonight."

"I never thought that a _harmless_ trip to the Ministry—"

"Clearly you _weren't_ thinking, Black. As you can see, your lack of consideration has landed Aurora in the Hospital Wing with burns, broken bones and _poisonous stings!_"

"_Yes,_ _and I__should be with her!_ She needs me right now—"

"I'm not letting you get anywhere _near_ her until Dumbledore and I have been given an explanation as to _what the hell is going on!_"

As the ireful tones of Lord Frank Longbottom, Lord Sirius Black and Lord James Potter gradually waned, the wizards having begun to ascend the magical staircases toward Dumbledore's office, Snape took a brief moment to ponder their strange conversation: What were Sirius and Aurora doing at the Ministry of Magic? How had Aurora received her curious injuries? And why the _fuck_ did that _gormless toe rag_ James Potter think he was entitled to remain at her sick bed? Wasn't Longbottom the one courting Aurora Rockford?

Attempting to brush aside his contemptuous feelings towards James Potter—the pompous prick he had despised ever since his first year at Hogwarts—Snape slipped out from his hiding place and spirited towards the Hospital Wing. As soon as he had thrust open the heavy double-doors Madam Pomfrey was at his side, sweat beading on her forehead and dark crimson stains dotting her hands and arms.

"_What took you so long?_" the flustered healer declared upon his arrival, immediately leading Snape to a bed concealed by a patterned curtain, located at the end of the stone-walled Hospital Wing.

When Madam Pomfrey pulled back the angora curtain, Snape blenched, the lady he had seen only hours ago—eyes glistening, cheeks rosy, hair shiny and pined back, lips luscious, and ripe breasts swelling beneath a tight corset—much different from the sallow, ailing girl before him now. Her brown hair was loose, curls sprawled across her pillow, and her face was ashen—whiter than the first snowfall of the year. Dressed in a flannel nightgown, the unconscious girl lay motionless in her bed, thick sheets pulled up to her chin.

"What's happened to her?" Snape inquired monotonously, determined to mask his concern.

"Lord Dumbledore said she ventured into the Forbidden Forest with some of the party guests. _So thoughtless of them!_ Lord Black described the accosting creature as an enlarged scorpion—a skrewt, likely. He suffered burns as well but refuses to let me treat him until he has spoken with the Headmaster." Madam Pomfrey clucked in disapproval, gently smoothing what Snape recognized to be bruise-removal paste over Aurora's left cheek, "Quickly now, the ingredient I requested!"

Snape swiftly pulled the phial of powdered bezoar from his cloak pocket and passed it to Madam Pomfrey; she uncorked the bottle and poured the contents into a glass of water, stirring the contents with her wand. Once she was satisfied with the concoction, the healer placed her wand on the bedside table and gently eased the elixir into Aurora's mouth, parting her blue lips to allow the liquid entry. Though Aurora did not stir, Madam Pomfrey seemed pleased by her efforts, visibly calming after she had administered the medication.

"I told Dumbledore that she should be treated at St. Mungo's, but he refused. If you didn't pride yourself on keeping an impressive potions cupboard, I don't know what I would have done…there, her colour should return to her in no time. I expect she'll be fully recovered by morning."

Paying no mind to Snape's attentive, eerily sensual regard for the sick girl, Madam Pomfrey sailed into her windowed-office muttering about sutures and dressings. Reflexively, Snape sank into the chair beside Aurora's sick bed and side-glanced her crowded bedside table. The surface was covered in bottles of varying shapes and sizes, containing rudimentary medications like blood replenishing potions, bruise removal and burn-healing pastes, deflating draughts and Skele-Gro.

_That's what happens when you get involved with prats like Sirius Black and James Potter…_

Snape grimaced, suddenly feeling a pang of jealousy: Why would Aurora stoop so low as to fraternize with the likes of Black and Potter? He had thought her better than that. She wasn't some common aristocratic _trollop_ who worshiped at the feet of arseholes like them, was she?

Snape tore his eyes away from the befallen form of Lady Aurora Rockford and suddenly rose to his feet. He knew it would not be long before either Dumbledore or Longbottom returned to check on her medical progress: The thought of either of them discovering that he had a soft spot for the girl was too much to bear. With a furtive look toward Madam Pomfrey's office, Snape quickly pressed a clammy hand over one of Aurora's fair ones in a gesture of amity—an emotion that felt foreign to him—before stealthily skulking out of the Hospital Wing and into the contiguous corridor.

* * *

It certainly was not the first time James Potter had been called to the bellows of Lord Albus Dumbledore's bureau. Located on the 7th floor, carefully disclosed behind the statue of a pensive-looking gargoyle, was his spacious, circular office. The room was lined with gabled windows which usually provided spectators with dizzying views of the mountains surrounding the castle; however, tonight James could only see stars, the landscape shrouded in midnight. Though the moon was bright and clear, its silver light reflecting on the calm waters of the Black Lake, it provided him no sense of calm.

It had taken James and Sirius almost an entire hour to regale the occupants of the office with their account of events. As they spoke, Dumbledore sat quietly behind his highly-polished desk, tapping his wand thoughtfully on the thickly-papered surface. Still attired in his dress robes and amber rings, he was flanked by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody, two high-ranking Order members who appeared perturbed to be awake at such a late hour. Lingering near one of the windows overlooking the Hogwarts grounds was also Frank Longbottom, visibly stewing in his expensive tuxedo. Throughout James and Sirius' explanation concerning their recent activity and association with Lily, only Frank seemed dismayed by the news; a fact that had not gone unnoticed by James.

_What's his bloody problem?_

The palpable silence that followed James and Sirius' narrative was filled by snoring portraits, whizzing and whirling silver instruments which occasionally emitted opaque puffs of smoke, and the fussing of a recently reborn phoenix. While Dumbledore contemplated their words, James and Sirius exchanged a private look, both unable to predict the Headmaster's reaction.

"Kingsley, please send a patronus to Remus Lupin. As he is also aware of whom Lily really is, he must be included in this discussion." Dumbledore finally declared, propelling Kingsley to exit the enigmatic office to collect the young werewolf.

Within ten minutes, a humble knock sounded on the office door and in strode a haggard-looking Remus Lupin, his blonde hair long and unkept and his roguishly handsome face lined with freshly-healed scars. When the occupants of the room turned to look at the bedraggled Order member, his eyes widened in quiet surprise.

"Prongs…you're back." Remus commented tranquilly, smiling as he crossed the room towards his Hogwarts friends to envelope him in a brotherly hug, "You had us all worried."

"Not my intention." James replied, gladly accepting Remus' embrace before pulling back to assess his emaciated state, "Rough transition the other night? You look like hell."

"He _always_ looks like hell." Sirius smirked, throwing an arm around Remus' shoulders and giving him a spirited shake.

"Let's just say some of my…_kin…_are rather uncooperative concerning our campaign." Remus smiled tiredly, regarding his best friends warmly.

"Prefer to communicate with their claws rather than their words, eh? _How unruly!_"

"_Hilarious_ as per usual, Padfoot. Regardless, it's good to have you back, Prongs." Remus concluded, turning toward Dumbledore and bowing respectfully, "You called for me, Headmaster? Surely you had more than a familial reunion in mind for us all?"

"Quite right, Mr. Lupin. Please, won't you all have a seat? This restless pacing is thoroughly unfurling poor little Fawkes." Dumbledore said softly, referring to the pet phoenix rolling around in its own ashes behind him, "Let me procure some seats."

Without waiting for the group's reply, Dumbledore gracefully waved his knobby wand in a counter-clockwise motion, causing four plush, ruby-red armchairs thick with cushion to materialize out of thin air and scoop up the four young wizards in the room—James, Sirius, Remus and Frank. The alarmed men fidgeted awkwardly in the overly-plush furniture, unimpressed that Kingsley and Moody were allowed to remain pacing behind Dumbledore's desk.

"There, that's more comfortable." Dumbledore smiled knowingly, tucking his wand into the front drawer of his elaborate desk, "There is much to update you on, Mr. Lupin, but before that, I must inform you all about my intentions for our Miss Lily Everard."

"_Everard?_ I thought you said her last name was 'Evans', Prongs?" Remus piped up, ever the one for recalling convoluted details.

"I thought it was…" James trailed off, blankly looking out the window and into the darkness.

"You see Mr. Lupin, Lily's true title is Lady Lily Everard. Her father was Lord Marquis Everard, son of former Hogwart's Headmaster Emmett Everard. Surely you've heard of him?" Dumbledore asked the three dumbfounded boys casually; Frank slouched in his chair, still silently seething.

"The Everards are a famous pureblood family." Sirius pointed out, smirking as he side-glanced his best friend, "Told you your mother would be pleased."

"Lily's a pureblood?" James inquired hollowly, bewilderment illuminating his features.

"Not quite—halfblood." Dumbledore replied calmly, folding his hands in a business-like fashion, "Not that such a thing matters. Her mother was a muggle—a highborn lady named Esmeralda. She and Marquis married a few years before Lily was born."

"Fascinating…" Remus mused aloud.

"An interesting background indeed. Unfortunately, Lily's story is not a particularly pleasant one." Dumbledore continued, turning serious, "Before Lily was born, and around the time Voldemort began recruiting death eaters, Cassandra Trelawney recited a chilling prophecy—one that spoke of a young halfblood girl who would one day vanquish the Dark Lord. Through Karkaroff, the prophecy reached Voldemort and he began to hunt for young witches who matched the prophecy's description."

"You're not insinuating that Voldemort truly believes _she_ is the witch the prophecy speaks of?" James suddenly demanded skeptically, heat rising around his neck, "There are _thousands_ of witches that could meet a seer's description."

"Yes Lord Potter…he believes Lily is the witch the prediction speaks of. The prophecy describes the girl as 'blooming'…like a flower…with startling emerald eyes. Not long after the prophecy, a halfblood infant with the most staggering pair of green eyes was born, named after a flower."

James and Sirius were speechless; it was Remus' probing curiosity and thirst for knowledge that perpetuated Dumbledore's explanation, "How did she escape? We all know that once the Dark Lord has set his sights on something he becomes obsessive—near unshakable."

Dumbledore sighed sadly, "The Everards made great sacrifices for their daughter. First they staged a fire; Emmett helped to perpetuate the story that the little family had perished in an inferno at their manor. He even threw a funeral for them."

"But surely not…?" James sputtered in puzzlement.

"It t'was a ruse, yes. Marquis and Esmeralda abandoned their life, packed up the baby and went on the run, hoping Voldemort had been fooled by their plot…but he had not been fooled. It was a game of cat and mouse, and the couple knew they could not outrun the Dark Lord forever…so they made the ultimate sacrifice. They dropped Lily off on the steps of an orphanage, leaving nothing with her except a locket and a letter instructing that she was to be taught at St. Madeline's when she came of age. They then proceeded to wipe each other's memories…so that when Voldemort finally caught up with them, they could never be compelled to divulge her whereabouts."

The room lapsed into silence; no one seemed to know what to say, prompting Dumbledore to continue, "It was only last month that Voldemort became privy to Lily's whereabouts. The locket her parents gave her acted as a shield for her untamed magic, disclosing it from those who were looking for signs of an undiscovered magical youth. I venture that Lily was experiencing some emotional heartache a month ago—likely a combination of the war and your departure, Lord Potter—and unknowingly smashed her only protection. She managed to evade the deatheaters who came looking for her that night—who we now know to be Wilkes and Malfoy. Before they could apprehend her the next day, Frank, Kingsley and Alastor retrieved her and brought her to Hogwarts to stay with me."

"_Malfoy?_" James suddenly spat, seeing red, "_He came after her?_"

"So that's it, then? We have confirmation that Lucius Malfoy is a deatheater?" Sirius queried sharply, his curiosity interrupting James, "Cissy won't be far behind…that'll be two of my cousins who have joined Voldemort's ranks now. I'm sure Regulus will feel simply _inspired_."

"We'll be keeping a close eye on the 'lot of them from now on." Moody growled from the background, idly playing with a brass instrument located on one of the many shelves in Dumbledore's office.

"So what's your plan, Dumbledore? After everything you've just told me I'm having a very hard time understanding why Lily is being _paraded_ around Hogwarts when she should be in hiding." James demanded suddenly, his eyes intensely focused on Dumbledore, "_It's not safe for her here_."

"I must disagree, James: Hogwarts is the safest place in the world for her." Dumbledore countered peremptorily, leaning forward on his elbows in order to keenly return James' passionate gaze, "There were a few options I considered for Lily, and the one I chose allowed her the most room to breathe—to live."

"How so?" James insisted vehemently.

"You see, I decided the best way to disguise Lily was to hide her in plain sight—the last place Voldemort would think to look." Dumbledore continued serenely, "He likely believes I have bundled her off to a remote location in order to teach her how to harness her powerful magic; however, I have instead placed her at the heart of high magical society, claiming her as my own niece. This may seem dangerous to you, and it is—this is why the Dark Lord will never suspect it to be true."

"That's genius." Remus declared, causing James to eye him incredulously.

"It's clever, I'll give you that…but how is Lily meant to pull this off? She hasn't been raised a highborn lady…she doesn't know the first thing about magic." James maintained practically, prepared to steal away with his love in tow if it meant her safety; escape to a far-off country where they could live incognito.

"That's where Frank comes into the picture." Dumbledore started slowly, his clear blue eyes determined, "Frank has been teaching Lily about high-born magical society since she arrived at Hogwarts, and Lily has also been receiving countless hours of magical education per day. I must say, her progression has been remarkable thus far."

"And you believe she knew enough to convincingly attend the Hogwarts Gala?"

"Certainly—she was doing a lovely job of it, too, until she left for the Ministry with _him_." Frank finally spat, his tone slick with acrimony as he glared sullenly at Sirius.

"I already apologized for that…" Sirius mumbled dourly, Remus raising an eyebrow at Frank's divulgence and looking to James questioningly.

"We'll fill you in on the rest of this sordid tale later, Mooney." James replied before resolutely turning back to Dumbledore, "Well now that I have been made privy to this plan, I will take over Lily's training. I can teach her whatever subjects you'd have her learn, and help to acquaint her with the magical aristocracy. This being the case, I suppose we should discuss how Sirius, Remus and I are going to factor into your elaborate ruse: Should we pretend we have all been acquaintances for some time? We will need some explanation as to when Lily and I started courting and how we knew each other previously…"

Frank's face was as red as a radish.

"You are getting ahead of yourself, Lord Potter." Dumbledore interjected gracefully, firmly folding his spindly hands, "We have already begun executing on a plan which achieves Lily's disguise. Of course, had we known that the three of you knew her, perhaps it would have been a different plan…but alas, she has already been presented to magical society on Frank's arm."

James leaned forward disbelievingly, his face wrinkling in bewilderment as he contemplated Dumbledore's words; Sirius and Remus exchanged alarmed looks, both wary of the veins now bulging on their best friend's neck.

"That would explain why I saw them dancing together…" Sirius muttered tensely, watching James' jaw clench tightly.

"Lily and…_him?_" James sputtered, his eyes darkening with envy as they sharply turned on Frank.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Frank taunted, his anger getting the better of him.

James rose to his feet violently, sending his chair backwards; Dumbledore rose as well, his tone steady, "Settle down. There is no need to get upset. Let me explain the situation."

"If you have laid even a _finger_ on her, Longbottom…" James threatened Frank menacingly, ignoring Dumbledore

"Then you'll do _what_, Potter?"

"Perhaps I'll _remove them_."

"I suppose I shall rely on my _lips_, then."

"_What did you say?_"

"_After all, she didn't seem to protest the last time we kissed…_"

James lunged forward, but not before Sirius and Remus could catch his shoulders to prevent him from making a mess of Frank's face.

"_You're a fucking liar, Longbottom!_"

Dumbledore brandished his wand, swishing it towards the furious lord and sending him barrelling backwards into the squishy chair he had once inhabited, "_I will not tolerate this any longer._ Alastor, Kingsley, please show Lord Longbottom out of my office. Lord Black, Mr. Lupin, please leave as well; I should like to speak to Lord Potter privately."

Frank stormed out of Dumbledore's bureau without another word, Kingsley and Moody hot on his tail. Before Sirius and Remus followed in the wake of the Order members, Sirius squeezed James' shoulder supportively, flashing the elderly lord an apologetic look on his behalf. When Remus clicked the bureau door shut, conversation ensued again.

"Was that quite necessary?" Dumbledore asked James softly.

His eyes were still afire with emotion: "Is it true? Lily is courting _Longbottom_?"

"Yes—but for appearance's sake only. I encouraged it; they now have an excuse to be together at all times. This allows Frank the ability to spend a great deal of time teaching her and the ability to keep an eye on her at all social functions and parties. Should she ever slip up on her disguise, he will be there to rectify it. Besides this, presenting them as a couple keeps eager suitors who may endanger our plans far away from Lily. I'm sure you agree that my logic is sound; Frank is instrumental to Lily's disguise at the moment."

"Be that as it may, _I'm_ here now. I can do all of that for Lily—and we will be so much more convincing, as we actually _are_ in love. Do you seriously expect me to stand aside and let Frank strut about society with _my_ girlfriend?" James demanded heatedly, his pulse racing.

"If you love Lily as you say you do, _yes_." Dumbledore returned firmly, "What would it do to her reputation if she traded Frank for you now? What would it do to her aristocratic disguise? You are clever, James…you know I'm right."

James growled, slamming a fist down on Dumbledore's desk in frustration, "_Damn this plan_. Finally we are together again, and now we are forced to hide our feelings for each other!"

"We can adjust the plan once we have put some distance between us and the Gala...but for now, this will be your task. If I cannot entrust it to you…your involvement in Lily's protection will have to change. Can I depend on you this time, James?"

Swallowing his injured ego, James nodded his head painfully, Frank Longbottom's injurious revelation about kissing Lily still knotting his stomach uncomfortably: "I would never do anything to hurt her…I will do as you ask."

_And I will hate every moment of it._

* * *

By the time Lily finally awoke it was late morning. Surfacing from a medically-induced, dreamless slumber, she squinted awkwardly, the summer sun that poured in from the arched window above her wrought-iron bed causing her eyes to protest. Once they had adjusted, Lily peered at her surroundings: She surmised by the rows of pale-green, unoccupied beds and towering rock walls that she was in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing. Though she had never been there before, the space perfectly matched the stale description included in _Hogwarts: A History_.

Lily sat up and rubbed at her tired, red-rimmed eyes: How had she ended up here? She could vividly recall last night's events—the Hogwarts Gala, the Ministry of Magic, reuniting with James Potter—but what had happened after their fairy-tale meeting? Lily shifted in her sickbed, anxious to get out of the hot woollen gown that uncomfortably clung to her figure and determine where James had disappeared to.

_I thought he'd be here with me…_

As she planted her bare feet on the cold stone floor, Lily secretly feared the previous night had been a figment of her overactive imagination; however, as she climbed into an upright position and her left leg spasmed tenderly, she knew the blast-ended skrewts she had battled last night had been all-too real. Biting down on her lip as she fought through the pain, Lily yanked the paisley hospital curtains closed and changed into a clean dress that had been laid out for her over the back of the chair beside her bed. After painstakingly pulling the gown on, Lily impatiently pulled at her rumpled hair to inspect its state, intent on moulding it into a braid in order to tame it. Looking down at her long locks irritably, she immediately noticed its colour: a deep shade of russet.

_I suppose my eyes have been changed back to blue as well…_

Slipping on a pair of leather shoes, Lily yanked open the curtains, ready to figure out what was going on; she recoiled in surprised when she came nose-to-nose with Lord Albus Dumbledore.

"Out of bed already?" the old wizard inquired lightly, his cerulean eyes stark against the grey backdrop.

"L-Lord Dumbledore!" Lily exclaimed in astonishment, clutching at her beating heart due to his unexpected presence, "I thought I was alone!"

"I'm sorry I startled you; I only just arrived. You have many friends who wished to remain at your side while you slept, but our dear Madam Pomfrey was adamant that you be left alone to recuperate from your injuries. " Dumbledore explained nimbly, motioning for Lily to take a seat on the edge of her bed, "Won't you sit a moment? I should like to talk to you before everyone arrives to inquire about your health."

Lily obligingly sank onto her hospital bed, the springs groaning under her weight as she collected her hands in her lap and flourished Dumbledore with a sheepish glance, "I suppose I do have quite a bit of explaining to do…but…James…is he still here? Does he remain in the castle?"

"I doubt I could have removed him even if I had tried." Dumbledore replied blithely, settling himself into the wobbly chair across from Lily's bed and patting the top of her hand gaily, "My word, such a revelation last night turned out to be. I assure you I am quite taken aback by how smitten Lord Potter is with you, my dear—though I can hardly blame him. You'll be interested to know that I taught Lord Potter throughout his entire Hogwarts career, and I do not believe I have ever seen him so beguiled with any one person."

Lily blushed deeply, a single butterfly fluttering naïvely in the pit of her stomach. Though she was relieved to hear that James was still in the castle, she felt bashful about having to speak to Dumbledore—a wizard whom she respected and felt indebted to—about why she had so recklessly jeopardized his careful plan.

_I must seem like just another love-sick school girl…_

"Lord Dumbledore…please accept my sincere apology. I know I shouldn't have left the Gala to go chasing after James. I swear I don't usually act so wildly…it's just…for months I thought he was dead. When Sirius told me that he hadn't perished in the war—that we were both of the magical world and there was a chance we could be together again—well, that just wasn't an opportunity I could bear passing up…"

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, quietly contemplating Lily's words. He looked at her curiously, as if something had suddenly become blatantly apparent to him. With an enigmatic twinkle in his eye, he very seriously questioned: "Do you really love him, too?"

Lily blinked, startled by Dumbledore's fearlessness, before sincerely replying: "Yes…I do very much."

The aged schoolmaster clasped his aged hands together definitively: He did not seem disturbed by her answer, "If that is the case, there is nothing else that needs to be said. I cannot fault your heart for overruling your head. The circumstances surrounding your original encounter and eventual reunion with Lord Potter…well, a wise man once said that we should accept the things to which fate binds us."

Following a short pause, Lily finally mustered the courage to blurt out: "So…that's it then? I'm not in any trouble?"

"No harm done…this time." Dumbledore responded mischievously, affection tinting his voice as he patted Lily's arm in a grandfatherly manner, "Perhaps the venomous sting of a blast-ended skrewt is punishment enough. I would advise, however, that you exercise greater caution in the future, and I will ask you to strictly adhere to any instruction I give you moving forward."

"_I promise_." Lily replied vehemently, regarding Dumbledore loyally, "Whatever you ask of me!"

"Excellent. There is only one more thing we need to discuss, then." Dumbledore said on the sly, his eyes clouding conspiratorially.

"What's that?" Lily inquired nervously, suddenly uncertain about her unyielding pledge.

Dumbledore smiled sympathetically: "My dearest, please understand that we only just presented you and Lord Longbottom as a couple last night at the Gala. It will significantly besmirch your reputation within high society if you immediately trade his arm for Lord Potter's. Though it is clear to me that you and Lord Potter are very fond of one another, the pair of you must be _unquestionably inconspicuous_ about your feelings. For a time, it is best that you continue to appear on Lord Longbottom's arm."

Lily stiffened, her expression betraying her shock and dismay: Was Dumbledore instructing her to continue to court Frank for _appearance's sake?_ She and James were finally reunited after agonizing months apart, and they were charged with spending their rekindled time _separately?_ Not only did the idea seem unfathomable to Lily, but cruel as well.

"You mean…you mean to keep James and I apart?" Lily echoed feebly, misty-eyed.

Dumbledore squeezed her arm, his wizened facial features compassionate: "Not apart, my dear. In the public eye you may present as friends—good, close friends; however, it is preferable that you have other acquaintances—namely Lord Black or Mr. Lupin—with you at the same time. In private I cannot stop you from being together; but the pair of you must swear to me that—in the name of your protection—you will remain discreet."

_This is so unfair!_

"How does this charade you'd have us carry out _protect_ me?" Lily countered sharply, the fatalism inherent to her character rearing its defensive head.

"Think of it this way: No aristocrat would ever commit the type of social suicide that you and Lord Potter would so easily disregard in the name of love. I know that social banishment means very little to you—and I cannot blame you for that—but for a typical socialite, it is likened to death." Dumbledore elucidated patiently, taking Lily's hand and sheltering it in his own, "You must do this for authenticity's sake. You did a splendid job at the Gala last night, but this disguise cannot be ensured by one social gathering; it will take constant work to uphold."

Lily frowned, disgruntled by Dumbledore's sound logic. She could not argue with him; she would continue to see Frank publicly in order to sustain her delicate camouflage. Besides Dumbledore's sensibility, Lily imagined that breaking things off with Frank in order to be with James would also humiliate and taint her friend's noble image—something she knew she could not so easily do.

_Frank's has been a wonderful friend. I can't do that to him…_

"Once we have put some distance between you and the Gala, we will orchestrate a quiet parting and you and Lord Potter can determine what to do from there." Dumbledore continued benignly, providing Lily with a fragment of hope, "Lord Longbottom is aware of this arrangement and has agreed to it for your well-being. I assure you he is doing so quite selflessly."

"And James? What did he say when you told him?" Lily inquired hesitantly, wondering how he had reacted to the news that he would have to share her with another man.

_Somehow I don't imagine him being as rational as Dumbledore about the matter…_

"Lord Potter…has been rather vocal about his distaste for our plan, though he has reluctantly agreed to it. When I advised him that I would have him escorted from the castle should he disobey, he came around to my way of thinking." Dumbledore tittered gently, though Lily knew he was quite humourless about the issue, "I believe deep down Lord Potter knows it is the right thing to do."

"Perhaps…but you know how stubborn he can be." Lily sighed, smirking despite the newfound inconvenience of their romance.

"It will all work out; you'll see." Dumbledore smiled amiably, suddenly rising from his chair, "Now, shall we open up the Hospital Wing to the rest of your friends? They are all eager to see you in good health."

As Dumbledore crossed the room to thrust open the Hospital Wing's double-doors, Lily's heart began to thump fiercely against the walls of her chest: How was Sirius feeling? How would James fit into the complicated portrait that was her disguised life now? What was Frank going to do when he discovered her feelings for James?

The incessant questions buzzing about in Lily's head immediately vanished when into the Hospital Wing strode James Potter, his pace hurried and deep worry lines etched across his debonair face. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the handsome lord, the feelings that had carried her through her last months at St. Madeline's swathing her like a warm blanket. She rose from her seat on the bed and immediately slipped into her place in his strong arms; the missing piece of an unfinished puzzle. James cradled her head against one of his shoulders, pulling his hands through her silky hair and kissing her forehead tenderly. They remained entwined for a prolonged moment, both blissfully content to reacquaint themselves with the feel and smell of the other. When Lily finally pulled back to stare up into James' russet eyes, he smiled quietly. Though he was glad to be with her, she sensed something was amiss with him.

"Are you alright? I was so worried—Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me stay by your side. That woman has _unbelievable_ resolve." James recited frantically, looking down at her guilty, "It was torturous waiting out there all night."

"Look at me; I'm perfectly fine now. I wish you hadn't agonized over me—you look like you haven't slept in months." Lily returned gently, stroking his chin as she took note of the dark bags under his eyes and the stubble lining his jaw.

"I'll be sleeping more soundly now that we're together again." James whispered, taking Lily's hand and kissing the top of it.

"_Oi!_ What are Remus and I? Chopped liver?" Sirius sang out from behind James, shattering their loving exchange by suddenly appearing at their side, a customary grin lighting his face.

"_Sirius…_" Lily breathed earnestly, throwing her arms around his neck caringly; he half groaned, half chuckled in response to her relieved embrace: "How are you feeling? Has Madam Pomfrey treated you?"

"Yes—though I didn't need treatment. She just likes to have her way with me." Sirius jested, releasing Lily from her skin-tight hug, "Looks like she patched you up nicely, though. I told all of these barmy _worry-warts_ that it would take more than a blasted-ended devil to take you down."

"From what Sirius has told us, you put in an impressive effort at the Ministry." Remus Lupin added serenely, side-stepping from behind Sirius to make his presence known to Lily.

"Remus?" Lily questioned curiously, taking in his familiar reedy frame and gaunt—yet strangely alluring—features. There was something wild and mysterious about his existence that Lily couldn't quite place; yet when he smiled to affirm she had identified him correctly, she laughed softly, "You're a wizard too, I see? Nothing surprises me anymore."

"I undeniably am. Might I say, it's lovely to see you again, and in improved health. Perhaps our next meeting won't be in a hospital room?" Remus quipped smartly, referring to the last time he and Lily had met—several months ago when Sister Agatha had pushed her down a set of stairs at St. Madeline's.

"Clearly I have a propensity for attracting trouble." Lily joked wearily, her heart leaping when James stole her attention back by slipping his hand over hers.

"Then it's a good thing you have all three of us to look out for you now." James returned gravely, brushing his lips against her temple, "Sirius in particular has promised to protect you rather than _endanger_ you."

"They are never going to let me live down last night, Lils. They're trying to suck all of the fun out of our lives. You let me know when you've grown bored of safety and you're ready to run away with me." Sirius winked, earning a half-hearted shove from James.

Lily laughed as the three boys continued to banter back and forth, attempting to interject some light into what could have been a very dark situation. She felt contented as she watched them, amused by the playful way they regarded one another; the sardonic retorts and mocking laughter. Though James had not spoken at length about Sirius or Remus to her, something about them made Lily think they had known one another a long time—that their friendship was an old one. The idea of them both comforted her and made her heart ache with remembrances of Roxanne, the best friend she had ever—and likely would ever—come to have.

Clueing out to Sirius' raucous retelling of James' beheading of the Ministry's centaur statue, Lily absentmindedly watched as Dumbledore exchanged words with Madam Pomfrey near the open doors of the Hospital Wing. She squinted as something in the distance suddenly caught her eye; she spotted a tall male figure swiftly departing from the scene, the back of his blonde head gleaming with the morning's sunbeams.

_He didn't come to check-up on how I'm doing…_

"My dear, I'm sure you're eager to leave your hospital bed for the comfort of your own room. Shall I escort you back to the dormitory? I've arranged for the house-elves to bring you breakfast there." Dumbledore appeared before Lily again, his smooth voice jogging her from her sad musings about her absentee friend, Frank Longbottom.

"No—please allow me to walk her there, Lord Dumbledore." James responded earnestly, his hand instinctually finding the arch of her lower back, "I promise I won't keep her awake long; it'll be straight to bed to rest."

Dumbledore quirked a wry smile, his eyes sparkling as he examined James and Lily from above the curve of his half-moon spectacles, "If you insist. Please don't be long, Lord Potter; an Order meeting has been called for early this afternoon. I should like you to use the time to explain your whereabouts to the rest of our inquisitive group. Lord Black and Mr. Lupin will be joining us as well, of course."

James groaned regretfully, earning a curious glance from Lily, "I suppose I must face them at some point…well alright then. I will meet you in the Great Hall as soon as I've seen Lily to her room."

"Sporting. You will take the day to rest, won't you, my dear?" Dumbledore instructed caringly, taking Lily's dainty hand and kissing it; his white whiskers prickled her skin, "I've informed your instructor that you are unwell."

"I suppose if it's already been decided." Lily agreed affably, though the prospect of being cooped up in her room without James or her tutor to entertain her seemed rather dull.

"We'll be off then. Are you sure you'll be able to walk?" James asked Lily, his voice full of concern, "I could always carry you there…"

"Don't be silly; of course I can walk." Lily whispered shyly, blushing at Dumbledore and waving off Sirius and Remus before allowing James to lead her out of the sterile Hospital Wing and into the adjoining corridor, nattily trimmed with polished suits of armor and thickly-woven tapestries.

Once the couple was safely out of sight, James sneakily pressed Lily's hand to his lips, the kiss lingering on her skin pleasantly, "I thought we'd never shake him…"

"You've been out of Dumbledore's sight for under a minute and you're already breaking his rules." Lily declared, smiling up at her beau quietly, her cheeks flushed with whispered delight, "Surely he bestowed upon you the same speech about being inconspicuous?"

"He asked us to be discreet, love. I know there is magic in this castle, but I hardly think the portraits will snitch on us to the headmaster." James breathed cleverly, his glib, bright eyes like molten chocolate as he stopped to gather Lily in his strong arms, "Unless you care to give them something worth talking about?"

"It didn't take long for that infamous Potter charm to return, did it?" Lily smirked, standing on her tippy-toes to grant him an angelic peck. He grunted happily, though the kiss was fleeting and she began to drag him further down the hallway.

"Your hair and eyes may have changed, but you're that same teasing schoolgirl I made the mistake of leaving behind, aren't you?"

"I completely forgot…" Lily exclaimed in a hushed—if not cautious—tone, her hand self-consciously flying up to her face, "You haven't seen me like this yet…it must have surprised you when you came in this morning."

"I still recognized you, though you look different with brown hair and blue eyes." James said thoughtfully, fingering a strand of Lily's russet hair, "But you know, I don't think I will ever get used to calling you _Aurora_. I suppose Dumbledore is right on insisting we all get into the habit of calling you that, though…"

Lily looked up at him worriedly, "It's all quite a change, isn't it?"

James kissed her temple serenely, whispering sweetly: "You still look beautiful to me, my darling. Disguised looks, name change, it doesn't matter; you'll always be my Lily."

"With one key difference: _magic_." Lily beamed, matching James' happy expression, "Now come on, are you going to stall us in this corridor all day? Let's get to my room."

"_Why my lady_…I would have quickened my pace long ago had I known how eager you were to get me to your room." James grinned roguishly, earning an outraged exclamation from Lily as she released his hand and dove headlong down the hallway.

"_What are you doing running? You're supposed to be ill!"_

Once James turned the last sharp corner he came to an abrupt halt; standing before the Fat Lady—a portrait he had come to know well during his school years—was Lily, eagerly reciting a password Gryffindor students were informed of at the beginning of each school year. When the portrait swung open and admitted Lily into its gold and crimson belly, James was instantly filled with inexplicable gladness.

"So, what do you think about my new lodgings?" Lily asked lightly, waltzing over to one of the many red-velvet couches in the Gryffindor Common Room and sinking into its bolstering plush, a smile igniting her eyes.

"You never told me you were staying in Gryffindor Tower…" James said softly, his expression jovial as he took in the intimate surroundings: overstuffed furniture, ornate fireplaces and sooty hearths, rickety school desks and chairs, and high, banner-swathed ceilings advertising the unmatched skill of the House Quidditch Team.

"Were you a Gryffindor?" Lily perked up curiously, aware of the nostalgia turning James' features ductile.

"A proud Gryffindor. _Go Lions_." James winked playfully, closing the distance between them by sinking into the couch beside her, "Sirius, Remus and I were all Gryffindors. Come to think of it, my entire family has been in Gryffindor. I've have some splendid memories in this room…it is by far the best House at this school. _Courage_; that was our forte."

"I wonder what House I would have been sorted into…" Lily mused languorously, her head drifting to James' shoulder as his arm easily slinked around her back; it was as if they had never been apart.

"Gryffindor, surely. There aren't many young ladies who would so willingly face a blast-ended skrewt." James pointed out proudly, gently kissing her forehead, "I still can't believe what you went through to get to me…that we are finally here, together again. Fate has us firmly in its talons, it seems…"

"I must thank Fate someday." Lily breathed tenderly, the sound of her sultry voice—the heaviness of her lids—enticing James towards her lips. She did not protest when he pressed against her gently, his index finger drawing imaginary hearts on her ticklish neck and his eyelashes brushing against hers.

"I love you, Lily." He murmured in her ear, caressing it sensuously with his tongue.

"And I love you, James." She whispered back melodiously, her body both alive with anticipation and flushed with happiness as the words effortless lurched from her heart and tumbled across her swollen lips, "What are we going to do?"

"Let's not worry about what tomorrow holds. We are finally together; there's no one in the world—not even Dumbledore—who can keep me from you now." James breathed huskily, his voice heavy with ardor and unrequited passion, "I promise I won't leave you again."

Lily's eyes suddenly welled up, the prospect of losing James unbearable to her, "I was so afraid I'd lost you…"

James shrouded Lily in a secure hug, burying his head in her neck and clutching her tightly to him, "We've had enough heartache for a lifetime, my darling. Now is _our _time for happiness…I promise everything will be alright…you'll see…"

_That's exactly what Dumbledore said…that everything will be alright…but will it?_

"But Frank…my disguise…I will always have to be in hiding, James. And now you've been incorporated into this fake little plot. That red haired schoolgirl you fell in love with…_she's gone_. I'm now some blue-eyed heiress…the newest member of magical royalty, by the sounds of it…hunted by a dark wizard intent for my blood due to some untapped magical talent I purportedly have. Don't you see? _Everything is different_. My life before seemed positively simple compared to this…"

"None of that matters to me, Lily." James vowed once she had finished raving, a stern yet gentle persistence colouring his tone, "You hadn't a clue you were courting a wizard…a wizard who just so happens to be a member of a secret society intent on _exterminating_ said dark wizard…did you? This may be a complicated situation, Lily, but _finally_ we know the truth about one another—and despite the challenges, we can persevere _together_."

"You have such conviction…" Lily whispered timidly, boring into his eyes as she caressed his stubbled face affectionately, "I wish I had your strength."

"It's all because of _you_. I have faith now. You and I…I there is more to us than mere coincidence…"

_I hope you're right, James—_

Before she could convince herself that James Potter's powerful prose was all part of an elaborate, wonderful dream, Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and drank from him passionately, her world crashing around her blessedly.

—_but I can't leave it up to fate. I have to take my life into my own hands now…_

* * *

Author's Note

First off, thank you so much to all my dear reviewers! 200+ reviews for the big reunion chapter—made me so so happy and completely fueled the writing of this chapter! Also a shout-out to all of the lovely readers who joined my Facebook page—all 55 of you are gems! I hope you are enjoying all the little clues and bits of future chapters I've been posting!

So, I plan on dropping a delicious little plot twist during the next chapter, and I'm very excited about it. Let's just say it'll shape the rest of the story from here on out. Exciting stuff, I promise!

Here's your next challenge my dears: **Please help me hit 3000 reviews!** Gosh that would be amazing!

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pratty-prongs-princesse


	26. Chapter 26

Petal in the Rain

* * *

Chapter 26 – Marauding

_Touch me I'm cold, unable to control  
Touch me I'm golden and wild as the wind blows.  
And tumbling, tumbling, don't go fascination.  
If just for tonight darling, let's get lost!_

Beck

* * *

It was late—nearly midnight. Though the vista outside of her dormitory window was tranquil, glass stars bursting against a navy sky, Lily felt distinctly agitated. Enfolded in her luxuriant bed, awaiting the sand man's charm, she tossed and turned irritably, eventually shaking off the linen dressings constraining her. Following the petulant battle, she wiped away the sweat that had manifested along her brow-line, willing autumn to swoop in and replace the irrepressible summer heat.

Truth be told, Lily had slept fitfully all day since James' departure, spooning food into her mouth out of sheer boredom and staring out of her dormitory window, craving for something exciting to transpire. It was hard to imagine that only the night before she had been breaking into the Ministry of Magic and battling bizarre beasts—what had been the biggest adrenaline rush of her life—now that she was being treated like a sickly invalid by the castle's hoards of house-elves. Though she found Mimi to be a delightful little creature, Lily thirsted for some human interaction; specifically the sweet kisses and mischievous petting of her handsome suitor.

_How can he kiss me like that and then just leave? Villainous man…_

Sighing pitiably, the thought of James' beautiful face a cruel tease, Lily changed into her satin bedgown and unfurled her wavy brunette hair from the tight braid she had fashioned earlier in the day. Aching for the night's cool breeze, Lily coiled up on her dormitory's stone window-seat with a volume she had nicked from the library only a week before—_Magick Moste Evile_ by Godelot.

After fingering through the first pages of Godelot's book, Lily could immediately understand why it had been shelved in the Restricted Section—a division of the library she by rights had no business being in: The body of work was thoroughly disgusting, most of the magical concepts beyond any sane person's sick imaginings. But, though the subject matter was stomach-churning, Lily was unable to put the book down, a mixture of morbid fascination and self-preservation gluing her eyes to every repulsive page.

_I need to know what I'm up against…_

Opening up the book to a random, mottled page, Lily immediately grimaced, her eyes growing wide as she absorbed the chapter's contents. Feeling queasy, she clutched at her chest nervously, perturbed by a particularly gruesome description concerning how to revive a decaying cadaver—what the book classified as an _inferius_.

_Necromancy…is such a notion really conceivable?_

Consumed by the ghoulish idea, Lily placed the book on her bedside table, hoping to never witness the result of such dark magic. It was disheartening to realize how sinister and grisly magic could be; that a wizard she had never met before could harness such dark powers. If Voldemort could amass an undead army with a simple wave of his wand, what chance did she have of escaping him? How could she possibly be _fated_ to defeat him?

_If I can barely tolerate reading about dark magic, how can I conceivably overcome it?_

Abruptly overwhelmed by her own ignorance, Lily dashed across the room toward her little writing desk and dipped her quill into a black inkpot. As she artlessly scribbled across a piece of dappled parchment, her thoughts hurried and desperate, a knock suddenly sounded at her door. She violently flinched mid-sentence, taken aback by the unexpected noise, causing the glass inkpot to tumble onto the floor and smash into thousands of tiny shards. Lily gasped loudly as the slivers scraped against her ankles.

"_Lily, are you awake?"_

Lily instinctually hurried across the room and slipped her still-wet letter between the pages of _Magick Moste Evile_, shoving the tome under her bed as her nerves transformed her bowels into water. Flustered by her unforeseen visitor, she accidentally neglected to put on a proper robe as she rushed to crack open the door to her room: "Who's there?"

When she came face-to-face with a tall, spectacled lord—the very man she had been romanticizing about all day—her cheeks immediately became inflamed, embarrassment welling as she realized how immodest her attire was.

James did not answer her curious inquiry straight away, his gaze sweeping across her carefully, observing her from head to toe. His eyes lingered for a long time on her bare arms and shoulders, consequently slipping down to her cleavage and finally the fleeting hem of her nightgown. His expression—initially one of happy disbelief—only reformed when he spotted blood dripping from shallow wounds on her feet and ankles.

"What's happened? Are you hurt?"

Without invitation, James slipped into Lily's room and shut the door behind him, momentarily trading arousal for worry. Lily was at a loss for words as he dropped down to the floor and delicately traced the outline of her wounds with his fingers, his face a mask of concern. Though the cuts on her feet were tender, all she could focus on was how his slightest touch made her knees feel wobbly…

"It's nothing…I knocked over an inkpot as I crossed the room to answer the door. You woke me up, you see…and it's dark in here." Lily lied apprehensively, feeling self-conscious as James stroked her legs soothingly. As the room was indeed steeped in darkness and her bed remained dishevelled from her on-and-off naps throughout the day, James was easily convinced.

"I didn't mean to startle you." James breathed softly, pulling out his wand and automatically pointing it towards Lily's wounds; he muttered a spell that instantly laced the broken skin back together and cleaned away the blood, "There…all better."

_I must learn how to do that…_

"Thank you…" Lily whispered shyly, hugging her shoulders as James climbed to his feet and met her stare; the heaviness of his longing—easily deciphered even in the pitch black—made her heart pound with anticipation.

"I'm sorry to wake you, I know it's late…perhaps it's inappropriate of me…it's just…" James murmured, abruptly stopping as if unsure whether or not it was suitable to proceed.

"Just what?" Lily echoed half-heartedly, doubtful of her ability to formulate coherent sentences under the circumstances.

"The truth is…I just can't stop thinking about you…about _kissing you_…but I know I'm being improper by coming to see you so late; I don't know what I was thinking…" James rambled bashfully, delighting Lily in the process; Lord James Potter very seldom appeared insecure.

"Well…I suppose I always was a bit of a rule-breaker." Lily whispered coyly, attempting to hide her amusement as she sensed James' heightened excitement, "Now that you're here…would you like to lie down for a while? You must be tired."

"If you're sure…" He murmured quietly, settling onto her lavish bed. Unbeknownst to one another, both Lily and James' nerves twitched with a mixture of expectation and agitation, neither confident they could employ self-restraint while in the presence of the other.

"How are you feeling? Your bruises look like they've healed nicely…" James said kindly, cupping a hand over one of Lily's cheeks, his thumb brushing her jawline as he examined her injuries.

"I'm feeling much better…but I've been terribly bored without you." She divulged, holding James' hand as it fell from her face and into her lap, "I'm cross with Dumbledore for whisking you away from me so soon."

"The headmaster has certainly thrown a wrench into our plans, but he means well." James sighed, his keen eyes tracing her moonlit features, "As much as I hate to admit it, he's right about everything—even this _daft_ plan for you to continue to court Longbottom—but it won't be for much longer."

"I wondered what you thought about that…" Lily whispered, her throat going dry at the thought of poor Frank and the strange kiss they had shared at the Hogwarts Gala.

_When am I supposed to bring __**that **__up with James?_

"I'm sure you can imagine how I feel about it." James replied tersely, though he meant none of his irascibility for her, "The sooner we can end this farce, the better…don't you agree?"

"Of course." Lily responded stiffly, feeling suddenly guilty; he bit back a relieved grin: "Did that war addle your brain, Lord Potter?"

"_No_…I just don't want to make any presumptions; you already have enough people trying to make decisions on your behalf."

"Thank you for saying that." Lily whispered sincerely, uncaring of her attire as she wrapped her arms around James' neck and kissed him lightly, causing his breath to catch.

"And thank you for wearing _this_ little number." James tantalized throatily, playing with the strap of Lily's camisole, which was begging to slip over her shoulders and down around her waist.

"If you're going to be naughty, I'll have to ask you to leave." Lily whispered coquettishly, pushing James onto his back and trailing her fingers up and down his chiseled chest. She wasn't sure if it was the summer heat or the relief of his return that fueled her desire—all she knew was that she _wanted_ him.

"You are such a torment…" James groaned huskily, his eyes clouding as his hand slid down Lily's neck and rested cautiously on one of her round breasts. When Lily did not react indignantly, as James had fearfully imagined she would, he slowly sat up—like a child afraid to scare away a small animal—and began to gently massage her, his thumb rubbing against her sensitive skin. As he continued the sensual motion he studied her vigilantly, wary of pushing his luck. His pants tightened achingly as he watched her girlish reactions to his touch; her flushed cheeks, barely-audible sighs and firming nipples. Feeling both encouraged by her pleasured reaction and eager to indulge his own unanswered excitement, James pitched forward and kissed Lily deeply, his hands gracefully releasing the thin straps of her nightgown from her shoulders. She gasped naively as the silk fell away—exposing her naked torso—and gathered neatly at her hips, leaving James' predatory eyes to freely roam her porcelain skin.

"_Merlin, you're so…so…_" James murmured zealously, his voice quivering with desire as he finally tore his gaze away from Lily's figure and kissed her benevolently, pulling his hands through her hair and up and down her soft bosom.

Lily submissively sank down onto the bed with him, his fondling making her dizzy with desire. His greedy touch made her skin tingle all over, his throaty whispers sending waves of exhilaration pulsating throughout her body. As James showered her with kisses, pinching her to reap her verbal affirmations of pleasure, she precipitously began to wonder what gratification she should give him in return.

_What do I do? What if I'm no good at…__**it**__?_

The horrifying thought of being an inadequate lover suddenly crushed Lily. She suspected James had done…_things_…with countless other women before her, and concluded that he would therefore compare her performance to theirs. What was she going to do? She had no experience with men…what if she was awful at the whole endeavour and James realized what a mistake he was making with her? Would he still fancy her if she was a terrible lover?

"Lily, you're trembling…" James pronounced, becoming apprehensive due to Lily's sudden change in body language.

"W-What? N-No, I'm fine." Lily stuttered implausibly, only confirming James' disquiet.

"No you're not…I've gone too fast, haven't I?" James fretted, removing his hands from her and delicately pulling her slip back over her shoulders, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rush you into anything—"

"I-It's not your fault! I wanted you, too." Lily replied feebly, trying to regain her composure as James insisted on wrapping a blanket around her shoulders to further cover her from his peeping eyes; she found his attempts almost laughable, "James, you don't have to do that…"

"The more I clothe you the less I'll be tempted to touch you again." James explained bashfully, sexual frustration colouring his voice and blurring his expression, "Lils…you look so lovely…I lost myself and forgot to be a gentleman."

"James…" Lily breathed quietly, placing her hand over his heart, imploring him to look at her; she blushed artlessly as she began her confession, "I…I liked what you were doing…_quite a lot_. I didn't mean to ruin it; I just started to panic…"

"Panic about what? I would _never _force you into anything—"

"Of course, that's not what I meant…it's just…I've never done _this_ before…I'm worried I…I might not be good at it…"

James blinked at her stupidly—as if the notion was an impossibility. Lily continued to blush violently, her admission thoroughly mortifying her.

"Lily…you'll be _exquisite_. Of that I am certain." James responded attentively, his fear melting away at her chaste profession; if possible, his love for her deepened even more, "I'm crazy about you…it will be the most cherished moment of my life, when it happens."

"Really?" Lily asked uncertainly, some of her insecurity dissipating.

"_Really_. We'll take things slow until you're ready; let's see if I can't prove myself a gentleman after all. Obviously I have failed _miserably_ at that tonight." James frowned sheepishly as he wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss on the top of her head, "Don't take those blankets off though, promise?"

Lily snuggled her head into the crook of his neck, smiling seductively: "But James, it's _so_ hot—I can't possibly promise that."

"Then I can't possibly be held accountable for my actions…" James mused innocently, slyly slipping his hands under the blankets and tickling Lily's sides.

"_JAMES…STOP…IT!_" Lily shrieked girlishly, her uncontrollable giggles instantly plastering a grin across his stubbled face. When he discontinued his tortuous tickling, Lily tiredly collapsed on his chest, her breathing laboured, "You're wicked, you know that?"

"If you continue to tease me with that beautiful body of yours, then I will continue the depravity." James replied puckishly, yawning wearily as he rested his chin on top of her head and possessively entwined her in his arms, "You don't mind if I stay until morning, do you?"

Not soon after Lily gave him her permission, James' eyes fell shut, his heavy breathing filling the dormitory, indicating he had finally succumbed to his sleep deprivation. Feeling satisfied, Lily closed her eyes too, secretly revelling in the intimacy of his embrace. She knew he was going to be a hard man to say no to in the future.

_I wonder if I should tell him about what I intend to do?_

Lily's thoughts drifted back to the letter she had drafted and haphazardly hidden in her restricted book. She suddenly shifted uncomfortably in James' arms: Why had she instinctually hidden both the book and letter from him? Would he understand her need to both comprehend the dark arts and learn how to defend herself against them? A part of her thought not—that he would cite the irrelevance of self defense now that he was there to protect her.

_I need to be able to rely upon myself._

Lily sighed heavily, a lump lodging in her throat. Though she could happily remain in James' embrace forever, she would have to figure out how to slip out of his snug grasp in the morning in order to send the letter to its intended recipient.

_Desperate times call for desperate measures…_

* * *

_Professor Snape,_

_I must urgently speak with you; it concerns a delicate matter which we discussed when you first began tutoring me. I am desperate for your help—I can't wait any longer._

_Please meet me by the lake before breakfast._

_-Aurora_

Lady Aurora Rockford was a living and breathing paradox—of that Severus Snape was certain.

The potions master had spent many hours chewing over the riddle of a girl. She was a creature of high society, a golden girl related to one of the most—if not the most—powerful wizards in Britain. She virtually had the "world on a string". Any young debutant in her position would be devoting her time to shopping at the best international boutiques, attending extravagant, haughty parties, and riding the coattails of well-heeled bachelors who could—through matrimony—bequeath upon them even more prestige and fortune. Yet—as evidenced by her letter that bright morning—Aurora was clearly _not_ cut from the same cloth as the other maidens sharing her age and position.

Through careful observation, it was clear to Snape that Aurora lacked the arrogance and girlish tomfoolery that most society girls possessed. She did not treat those below her station coolly, superiority colouring her voice and posture; rather, Aurora was open and curious—a girl with her feet buried firmly in the sand and her eyes turned toward the sky. Furthermore, she seemed generally disinterested in the materialistic pursuits and fancies that most young ladies shared in—namely fashion, dancing, parties, and gold-digging. It was hard for Snape to imagine that a girl who possessed all the elements needed to effortlessly maneuver the upper class—beauty, grace, wealth, and a powerful family—wanted to so fervently break her mould.

As he furtively slipped onto the Hogwarts grounds that morning, dewy mist swirling about his dark cloak, he realized that the girl who secretly rebelled against her own circumstances was causing him to also mutiny against his own nature. Traditionally, any risk-taking he engaged in was carefully calculated; everything he did was purposeful and to further his own needs and wants, rather than for the benefit of others. Very seldom did he disregard rules, structure or authority, for within a pre-established framework he thrived; yet, there was he was, prepared to bend the rules for _someone else_.

_What am I doing?_

When Snape found Aurora curled beneath the gnarled willow tree that feverishly knotted its roots into the fertile banks of the Black Lake, her back arched up against its solid wooden frame, the orange sun was beginning to break against the horizon, its fiery light enlivening the vista. He noticed that upon hearing him trudging down the grassy slopes towards her sly location, she slipped a textbook she had been reading behind her back, purposely concealing it from him. The volume's title did not escape his whetted attention.

_Cunning girl…stealing books about dark magic from the restricted section, are we?_

"Professor Snape…" she started uneasily, the plucky young girl gazing up into his sallow face; her anxiety was conspicuous despite her best attempt to mask it.

"You _summoned_ me?" Snape greeted icily, brandishing her letter irritably.

"Thank you for coming…I'm sorry about the improvised invitation." Aurora replied cordially, seemingly unaffected by his cool response, "If you're not busy…will you sit with me awhile?"

Snape skeptically regarded her for a prolonged moment, one eyebrow raised in question, then sunk onto the moist ground, his curiosity outweighing his indignation at being called upon: "Shouldn't you be in the Hospital Wing? Word has it you encountered some trouble in the…_Forbidden Forest_…late last night."

He watched as she squirmed uncomfortably due to his veiled interrogation. He certainly wasn't a believer of the tale Dumbledore had spun in order to account for her rather strange injuries. After eavesdropping on James Potter and Frank Longbottom's conversation that night, it was apparent to him that something was amiss.

"I know my uncle has cancelled my lessons for the next couple days, but I've decided I'd like to go ahead with them. I'm recovered enough to proceed." Aurora asserted resolutely, skirting around an explanation of what had conspired the night before, "There's also a matter I'd like to discuss with you."

"Is that so?" Snape questioned lightly, regarding her suspiciously, "Am I to guess that you have arranged this little meeting _without_ your uncle's knowledge?"

She grimaced: "Yes, he likely believes I'm resting up in my room—and I'd like it to stay that way, if you don't mind. I don't want him—or anyone—to have knowledge about what I'm about to ask you. Can you keep a secret?"

Snape remained still, his black eyes betraying nothing, before finally uttering in a deep, sonorous voice, "_Perhaps_."

Aurora smiled despite his neutral response: "The truth is, the other night has only further augmented my desire to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts. I can no longer bear not knowing how to defend myself from what's out there…wizard or creature alike. Professor Snape, I am asking you—no,_ begging you_—to teach me the subject in secret."

Snape leaned forward incredulously, his face wrinkling with cynicism. When her resolve did not waver as he had expected it to, her mouth fixed in a determined line and her eyes beseeching, he suddenly felt awed by her audacity: "Are you _really_ serious about this? About betraying the trust of your uncle to learn a subject that many—if not most—believe a woman _ought not_ learn?"

"I'm utterly serious. I have no intention of being at the mercy of any dark wizard or creature—having to rely on competent men to protect me. I want to take my life into my own hands, Professor Snape, and I have a feeling _you_ are the only one who can help me do that." Aurora recited inflexibly, grim-faced, "Question is…are you willing to take the risk with me? Will you help me?"

Snape scoffed, turning away from her heatedly: Was he really going to jeopardize his position at Hogwarts and go out of his way to help a _society witch_ he barely knew? Considering he disdained the upper class, it was inconceivable that he even entertained the idea: "You know that learning Defense is no easy feat, don't you? Charms may come naturally to you, but I guarantee this _will_ _not_. There is more to defending against the dark arts than _mere_ spell-work; I can assure you of that."

"Of course, I understand!" Aurora reacted immediately, climbing to her feet as she fluttered her eyelashes beseechingly at him, her face flushed pink: "I am dedicated to this, Professor Snape; I will put in the work. Whatever it takes to be successful—_I_ _promise_."

_Incorrigible girl…if she wasn't so appealing…_

"I will not go easy on you; the training will be _grueling_." Snape warned, his mouth betraying his mind, which screamed for him to turn her away.

"There is nothing you can say that will dissuade me." She replied indomitably, though a smile suddenly broke across her once-stern face.

"We shall see about that…" Snape whispered, perplexed by his internal storm.

"Does this mean you'll do it?" Aurora breathed anxiously.

Snape frowned austerely, "If you are serious about this…we will begin tomorrow morning at eight o'clock sharp. Meet me at the gatekeeper's hut with your Care of Magical Creatures text and your wand…._and_ _don't be late_."

"Care of Magical Creatures…?" She echoed disbelievingly.

"Do as I say. You have asked me to trust in you…so now you must trust in me."

Aurora suddenly thrust herself against Snape, her arms encircling his frigid, thin frame in the most sincere hug he had ever received, "You don't know what this means to me…_thank you, Severus!_"

Once she let go of her him, Aurora scooped up the book she had laid to rest at the base of the willow tree and scurried off, visibly eager to get back before anyone realized she was missing. Snape clutched at his chest, bewildered, watching her tear into the depths of Hogwarts castle, his heart pumping hot blood into his veins so vehemently that he worried he might stroke. The internal war he had been waging with himself had been won by an organ he often doubted he possessed.

* * *

Lily pushed open the Dining Hall's grand double-doors, brilliantly emblazoned with the school's proud emblem, to an area which appeared much different than it had two days earlier. The Dining Hall was abuzz with activity, a small battalion of house-elves darting about the deconstructed space with wooden brooms and large orange buckets. The stage which once housed the jazzy ghost band had been taken apart, large planks of wood leaned up against the walls, while the cozy tables and chairs had been removed and replaced with four slender house tables. Lily smiled, immediately noticing a collection of good-looking wizards crowded around one of the long tables—namely James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Frank Longbottom.

_There he is!_

Her relief at spotting Frank quickly dissolved as the scene before her suddenly began to unfold: None of the men appeared to notice her arrival, for all were too preoccupied with quarrelling with one another about an unknown, heated matter. Lily's throat went dry.

"—_well I don't know why you and Dumbledore think you have the right to control her life._" James snapped viciously, his anger evidently aimed toward a red-faced Frank Longbottom.

"Just because you _happened_ to stumble upon her at a garden party before the rest of us doesn't give you the jurisdiction to dictate what is right for her _either._" Frank retorted, rising to meet James' anger with equal ferocity.

"Do you honestly believe this is some _petty fling_ between her and I? Obviously you don't have a damned idea what you're talking about, _Longbottom_."

"You make it sound like you and her have some _epic romance_, yet you have only known her for _mere_ _months!_ Are you sure you even know her _at all_?"

"_Better than you ever will._" James growled menacingly; Sirius and Remus—stern as statues— exchanged cautionary glances behind his back.

"Is that so? Did I fail to mention that it has been _I_ who has been here for her throughout this whole ordeal? That it was _I_ who saved her? Question is, where the hell were _you_ when she really needed you, _Potter_? Off _gallivanting_ in some misguided _muggle_ _war_?"

Sirius and Remus threw their arms around James and Frank before the two testosterone-laden wizards could lunge across the table at one another. Angry veins sprouted at James' temples; he was struggling so hard against Sirius that it appeared he would soon overcome him.

"_What's your problem, Longbottom_?Have you fallen for her?Is that why you are so _fucking_ _adamant_ that she parades around with you? You're really going to make her and I miserable so you can live out some pathetic _delusion_ that she's _yours?_"

"Your ego just can't stand the thought of us together, can it? Do you _really_ admire her, Potter, or is it that you cannot tolerate another man touching what you believe to be your _property?_"

"_YOU TAKE THAT BACK!_"James bellowed in outrage, swinging a fist toward Frank but missing by a long-shot due to Sirius' presence on his back; a group of nearby house-elves cowered in fear: "_LET GO OF ME, PADFOOT!_"

"_Enough!_" Dumbledore bellowed authoritatively, causing Lily to nearly hit the roof as he suddenly appeared at her side. The doors to the Dining Hal magically sealed shut as he raised his jagged wand and pointed it toward the pile of wrestling wizards, enunciating: "_Immobolus!_"

Lily gasped, the four boys suddenly frozen mid-action; James' face was petrified in rage, his fists aggressively balled before him, ready to connect with Frank's jaw; Sirius seemed determined yet slightly amused, his knuckles wound tightly around the fabric of James' shirt; Remus looked worn-out and weary, his muscled arms wrapped firmly around Frank's neck and chest; and Frank, features contorted in sardonic indignation, appeared to be simultaneously attempting to unleash his wand from his pant pocket and to throw Remus from his back. Though Lily was horrified by James and Frank's quarrel, she couldn't help but find their helpless, fossilized states strangely comical.

"This behaviour will not be tolerated within these walls." Dumbledore uttered gravely, his tone forbidding as he approached the group of motionless wizards, "If the four of you are not capable of civility, I will have to ask you to leave the premises. I strongly suggest that you—Lord Potter and Lord Longbottom—put your differences aside before I personally escort you out."

With a flick of Dumbledore's wand, the four boys resumed motion and collapsed in a heap on the floor, tangled in a mess of limbs.

Sirius groaned, Remus accidentally kicking him in the gut as he maneuvered into a standing position. Staring daggers at one another, James and Frank also managed to ascend into upright positions, both fiercely angry and embarrassed about their encounter. As the two rivals began to put themselves back together again, Sirius and Remus—bruised after their attempts at breaking up the skirmish—continued to eye the two gentlemen guardedly.

"James?"

Upon hearing her voice, James' face softened slightly; he turned away from his opponent and headed toward Lily, causing the fuming lord to glare even more injuriously. Unlike James, Lily's presence only seemed to exasperate Frank more.

"I was looking for you this morning. Are you alright?" James inquired urgently, gathering up Lily's hands in his own; heat rose to her cheeks despite the subtleness of his affectionate gesture.

"I'm fine…but James, what's going on here?" Lily asked apprehensively, her face betraying her consternation as she bore into James' purple-flecked eyes, "What could you and Frank possibly be fighting about?"

"I'm sorry you had to see that." James murmured darkly, side-glancing Dumbledore, "I apologize, Lord Dumbledore. I suppose you could say that Lord Longbottom and I…are having trouble seeing eye-to-eye."

"So it appears." Dumbledore responded regrettably, peering at James from above the rim of the half-moon spectacles slipping down his crooked nose, "We best put our differences aside for now, don't you agree? Aurora is not yet fully recovered from her tribulation the other night; I think it would do her well to have some breakfast."

"Undoubtedly." James agreed decorously, slipping his arm behind Lily's waist and swiftly guiding her away from Dumbledore toward one of the slender house tables set with china and silverware, "Come on, let's get some food into you."

As Sirius and Remus moved to join them at the table, Lily noticed Frank pull Dumbledore aside to exchange a quick word; after presenting the headmaster with a manila-coloured envelope, he furiously made his exit from the Dining Hall. Feeling an overwhelming need to speak to him, Lily squirmed out of James' arms, culpability twisting her stomach into webs, "Frank, where are you going?"

The lord did not stop to answer her. Distressed, Lily chased after him toward the exit, uncaring of her fellow diners. As James jumped to his feet to follow her, Dumbledore rested a withered hand on his shoulder. Though the idea of Lily having a friendship with Frank was distasteful to him, he obligingly sunk back onto the bench, feeling surly.

"_Frank Longbottom!_ _Stop pretending you can't hear me!_"

Just as he reached the double doors, Frank stopped, heaving a sigh as he continued to look toward the exit. Lily was taken aback by his short and angry reply: "_What is it?_"

She frowned dejectedly, her voice quivering slightly due to her sudden upset; she did not know why the prospect of Frank being cross with her disturbed her so: "Frank? What's wrong?"

Though he angled his head to look at her over his shoulder, Frank did not meet Lily's eyes; rather, he stared at the floor coldly, "Everything is just _dandy_, Aurora. Now if you'll excuse me—"

"Frank, _please_ _listen: _I'm so sorry for causing so much trouble for you, for making you worry the night of the Gala…I felt like I didn't have a choice—" Lily started beseechingly, her eyes becoming glassy.

"_No choice_?" Frank fully revolved around to meet her eyes with his own icy ones; Lily cowered remorsefully, "You could have told me what was going on…you could have asked for my help. I've been there for you since the beginning—we've worked together and trusted one another. I have dropped _everything_ to keep you safe. I even lied to my own parents in order to protect you…and that's how you repay my loyalty?"

"Frank…I wasn't thinking…I couldn't take the chance—" Lily tried to explain, her voice cracking ashamedly.

"You _were_ thinking, Aurora—but only about yourself." Frank said sombrely, turning on his heel and thrusting the double-doors open in a burst of resentment, "_Save your apologies for someone who is willing to accept them._"

"Frank, _please_—" Lily begged, though her plea fell on deaf ears as Frank uncharacteristically slammed the door behind him, leaving her shrinking in his devastated wake.

_I've completely ruined our friendship…_

"Longbottom was born with a stick up his arse…try not to take it personally." Sirius said smoothly, having traversed the Dining Hall to come to her aid, "He'll lighten up eventually."

Lily looked up at Sirius forlornly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and smiled, "It doesn't sound like Frank will ever forgive what I've done…"

"Trust me; he'll forgive you, though perhaps he'll never understand why we did what we did. How could he? He doesn't care for James like we do. He's more likely to box him in the face…as you so evidently witnessed only a moment ago."

Lily sighed, resting her head on Sirius' shoulders as her eyes befell James, Remus and Dumbledore sharing a whispered conversation at one of the long tables. James appeared to be half listening; though he nodded at the correct intervals, his worried gaze was glued to her and Sirius.

"You're right, Sirius…what's worse, I'd do it all over again if I had to." Lily murmured, wiping away the un-spilled tears that had collected in the corners of her eyes and forcing herself to smile, "Preferably without the blast-ended skrewts, however."

"Oh, come on; where's the fun in that?" Sirius grinned impishly, leading Lily back to the dining table.

"What was that all about?" James instantly probed, his hand finding Lily's once she had scooted down the bench to sit comfortably beside him, "Did he upset you?"

"It seems Frank and I are also having trouble seeing eye-to-eye." Lily muttered despondently, consoled by James' close proximity to her. As he stroked the top of her hand with his thumb she blushed, her thoughts drifting back to the previous night's activities.

"I assure you, my dear, Lord Longbottom just needs some time to reflect. Your disappearance at the Gala scared him dreadfully; once he has adjusted to our new situation, he will begin to calm. Please do allow him some time to acclimatize." Dumbledore advised wisely, taking a sip from his goblet as he suddenly changed his demeanour: "Might I offer you some hog's pudding?"

The once-empty silver platters tastefully arranged before them suddenly populated with an assortment of breakfast foods: poached eggs, grilled bacon, white and black pudding, chips, fruit, pancakes and oatcakes—a full English breakfast. James immediately took command of Lily's plate, exuberantly filling it to the brim with buttered breads, eggs and sausage. After topping up her goblet with saccharine pumpkin juice, he attentively stopped to watch her eat, his own plate bare.

"You know, I do believe I am capable of eating without supervision." Lily smirked at James, halting in the middle of cutting a sausage to chastise him.

"I know…I just want to make sure you eat so you fully recover." James countered stubbornly, glaring at Sirius as he sniggered into his pancakes, "What are you chortling about, Black?"

"Are you going to cut up her meat for her too, _Jamsie?_" Sirius snorted mockingly, "Perhaps you can help me with mine once you've finished with hers?"

"Who invited _you_ to join us, anyways?"

"_Li_—Aurora and I—" Sirius started before quickly correcting himself, Dumbledore having bestowed upon him a cautionary look, "—are now partners in crime. It wouldn't be right to separate us."

James rolled his eyes, further adding to the table's amusement, "If she knew you half as well as Remus and I do, she'd be avoiding you like the plague."

"Why do you think I fled to Scotland?" Lily jested, making Dumbledore chuckle good-naturedly.

"Sirius is quite like a fungus; annoying, sort of slimy—but he eventually grows on you." Remus remarked playfully, causing Lily and James to nearly spit out their food due to laughter.

"_I resent that, Lupin!_" Sirius bellowed indignantly, "I'll have you know, Li—_Aurora_, that I was the most popular boy at Hogwarts in my day. Wouldn't you agree, Lord Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore smiled mischievously, politely dabbing the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin, "There is no doubt that you and your merry band of rule-breakers were beloved by the school's female population, Lord Black—though I imagine they very seldom had the chance to speak with you as you spent most of your time in detention."

"Really?" Lily questioned eagerly, quirking a smile at her handsome suitor and his friends.

James grinned impishly: "I suppose we did have a proclivity for mischief in our hay-day. I'd like to think we are somewhat of a Hogwarts legend—_The Marauders_, we called ourselves."

"It was the three of us and another friend, Lord Peter Pettigrew." Remus continued, smiling serenely, "To Dumbledore's chagrin, we spent our spares playing pranks on unsuspecting students. I think the Hogwarts staff heaved a sigh of relief when the four of us finally graduated."

Dumbledore winked at Lily as if to affirm Remus' assertion; she smiled in return, feeling like a mysterious accomplice, "Hogwarts has never been quite the same without the four of you. I daresay our caretaker, Mr. Filch, may even miss you."

As the four friends began to swap stories about Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, the white wizard gracefully arose from his seat at the table: "I have some business I must attend to this morning; therefore I must bid you all _adieu_. Lord Potter, Lord Black, Mr. Lupin…you're all unexpected in London this afternoon."

Lily covertly looked between the three friends, hoping to discern from their facial expressions a secret or plan; she suddenly wished she too was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, keen on sharing in their experiences. She wondered if women were permitted to join.

_If I am meant to defeat Voldemort, wouldn't it be reasonable to ask me to join them?_

"And Aurora: Won't you join me for a late supper tonight in Gryffindor Tower? There is something I would like to speak to you about." Dumbledore inquired pleasantly, though he nearly caused Lily to choke on her pumpkin juice—the product of a guilty conscience.

_He knows what I did this morning._

"That sounds nice." Lily replied simply, not daring to reject the headmaster's cordial invitation.

"Excellent—I will leave the four of you to your breakfast then. _Au revoir_." Dumbledore concluded benevolently, sweeping past the house table and toward the double doors. As he disappeared behind the matured mahogany, Lily's stomach instantly dropped: What did Lord Albus Dumbledore have in store for her tonight?

* * *

As soon as the overbearing gold-leafed doors closed behind Lord Dumbledore, Sirius conspiratorially leaned forward in his seat, his sable eyes twinkling, "Looks like we won't be required in London for another couple of hours…what do you say we treat our friend _Aurora _here to an afternoon in Hogsmeade, eh Potter? Give her the official _Marauders_ tour."

James frowned thoughtfully, noticing Lily instantly perk up beside him. Though he was eager to begin introducing her to the wonders of the wizarding world, he was wary of exposing her too quickly and potentially jeopardizing her disguise—something he and Frank had idiotically disregarded that very morning by having a shouting match about her love life. Magical society was indeed comprised of many marvels, but he knew well that it was also a place where sinister wizards roamed in the shadows. He intended on shielding her from the darker elements of their world as much as possible, especially now that he knew the most infamous dark wizard of them all was intent on apprehending her.

_Over my dead body he will._

James took a pontificated gulp from his goblet of pumpkin juice: "I'm not sure that's a good idea. Aurora is supposed to be recovering from her ordeal following the Hogwarts Gala."

_I'm never going to get used to calling her that…_

"_Pish posh!_ Look at the girl; she's in fighting form." Sirius retaliated zealously, earning an appreciative smile from Lily. It appeared to James that—despite his kidnapping attempt months ago—she was beginning to consider Sirius a genuine mate.

_Like Remus said…he always grows on people._

"He's right, I'm perfectly fine! Can't we just go out for a few hours? I'm feeling terribly bored, cooped up in here while you're all out attending secretive meetings and fighting various wars." Lily appealed to him, waving her hand dismissively when she referred to the innumerable conflicts currently transpiring.

Remus cheerfully supported the idea: "Hogsmeade won't begin to fill up until the afternoon. The chances of us running into anyone we know at this hour would be slim; most of the shops are just opening up."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Lily turned toward James curiously, the hope draining from her blue eyes; he felt a pang of guilt for disappointing her, "You think if the four of us are spotted by a member of high society, we'll appear questionable?"

As he opened his mouth to speak, Sirius impatiently cut in, "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Prongs! We can come up with a plausible story, surely…"

"And what will that story be, exactly?" James humoured his best friend.

"If anyone asks how we know Aurora we'll tell them we met her earlier in the summer, when she first "arrived" in England." Sirius suggested, looking to Remus for assistance, "We'll say we bumped into her at the train station in Hogsmeade."

"And what will polite society think when they see her out with three men—none of whom is her _phony_ boyfriend?" James pressed sourly, irritated by the mere thought of Frank Longbottom.

"Listen: Aurora is going to appear in public with us _sooner or later_—she can't stay locked up in Hogwarts for the rest of her life. We might as well start familiarizing everyone with our friendship now, whether Longbottom is with us or not." Sirius articulated intelligibly, causing James to further retreat into his contemplation, "And since when do _you_ care what society thinks, Potter?"

"Since the life of someone I care about hangs in the balance." James replied steadily, squeezing Lily's hand beneath the table; she smiled woefully, touched by his gallantry: "If we allow Aurora's reputation to be tarnished, it will not only madden Dumbledore, it will affect the legitimacy of her camouflage."

Sirius grumbled to demonstrate his annoyance at being thwarted, trading an exasperated _'I tried'_ look with Lily, which James did not fail to catch.

"Well, I would argue—" Remus began serenely, finishing the remainder of his eggs benedict, "—that Lord Dumbledore is an unconventional sort of fellow. He is very liberal-minded, and often his ideas clash with high society's traditional paradigms; for example, was it not Dumbledore who went against the wishes of the Hogwarts Board of Governors in order to allow students from the lower class—students without _pure_ blood—to attend Hogwarts?"

"I'm missing your point, Mooney."

"My point is this: it may be _more_ inconceivable for the niece of such an unconventional man to _be_ conventional, rather than a little avant-garde. Somehow I doubt that anyone who knows Dumbledore would question why a relation of his is also refreshingly progressive." Remus verbalized cleverly, causing James to raise an eyebrow, "Aurora is seen out in public with some male companions—so what? Her status as a society darling will only be further solidified by being spied in your presence; not only will the young ladies be instantly jealous of her, any potential enemies will see she has _powerful_ allies."

Lily smiled brightly at Remus, positively charmed by his intellect, "I would have to agree with Remus' line of reasoning—and might I add, Dumbledore never explicitly told me that I wasn't permitted to leave the castle."

"See, Jamsie! Let's give Aurora a little tour of our world—what do you say?" Sirius encouraged animatedly.

Confronted by the pleading faces of his best friends and lady love, James groaned, relenting to their petitions for entertainment, "Fine, we'll go—but Sirius Black, _so help me God_, you are to be on your _best behaviour_. We do not need _Lady Aurora Rockford_ on the front page of the Daily Profit, understood?"

"You worry too much!" Sirius dismissed shrilly, suddenly bounding to his feet and swinging around to Lily's side of the table, "It's time you got a real taste of the magical world, _my lady_…shall we?"

Lily squealed with excitement, Sirius' enthusiasm contagious, and allowed him to pull her to her feet, "Should we call for a carriage?"

As James and Remus slipped off the bench to follow Lily and Sirius, the spectacled boy slipped a folded piece of diaphanous silk from his back pocket, winking at his pale friend when he noticed the rare object, "I think I have a better idea."

Once Lily had outfitted herself in a tailored summer dress meant for afternoon shopping trips and quaint café pit stops, she hurried back down to the Great Hall to meet up with her three companions. She was thrilled by the prospect of exploring the village again, especially with James in tow. A day in Hogsmeade was exactly what she needed to cheer up from her unpleasant encounter with Frank.

_The last time I was in Hogsmeade, he was with me…_

"You look sharp." James announced genially when she crossed the hall to join them; she quelled the desire to kiss him to show her gratitude, aware that the Great Hall was still a relatively public place, "You're sure you're well enough to travel?"

"If I get tired I'll ask Sirius to carry me—after all, it was his idea to take me out." Lily kidded, causing Sirius to roll his eyes dramatically, "Are the carriages ready?"

"Actually, we'll be taking a bit of a…_different_ route to Hogsmeade this time around; should help us to keep a low profile." James explained mischievously, his voice lowering to a whisper, "Remus, won't you lead the way?"

Puzzled, Lily obligingly followed the boys as they made their way toward the carpeted stairs, their backs to the front door.

_Why aren't we heading outside?_

"What secret passage will it be, then?" Remus inquired casually as they began to ascend the moving staircases toward an upspecified location, "There's the one behind the mirrors on the fourth floor, the one behind Gregory the Smarmy…"

"Secret passages?" Lily questioned feebly, though her inquiry fell on deaf ears, the three men consumed by their scheming.

"Let's go with the one-eyed witch—I heard a rumour that the passage behind the mirrors collapsed recently." James directed, casually saluting a portrait that shouted, _"Ho ho, Lord Potter, Sir!"_ as they walked by. Lily suppressed her mirth.

"Are you sure we shouldn't use the passage beneath the Whomping Willow?" Sirius suggested shrewdly, coolly running a hand through his cropped hair, "It'll get us there faster."

"I don't want Aurora using that passage." James responded without offering an explanation as to why; Sirius and Remus did not press the subject, leading Lily to believe that—though the threesome worked as a team—James was the kingpin.

It appeared that their destination was concealed on the third floor, for once they arrived at the landing they stopped. Before plunging down the shadowy corridor dotted with suits of tarnished armour and aged tapestries, Sirius peered around the corner suspiciously, apparently keen to avoid detection. Lily wordlessly followed the three men as they expertly maneuvered themselves around the bend, curious as to why they were creeping about the place like crooks about to hold up a bank.

"Why are we…?"

"_Shh!" _Sirius hushed her rudely, pressing a finger to his lips.

Lily glared at him, frustrated by their cloak and dagger quest. She whispered irritably: _"Why are we sneaking around like criminals?"_

"In case Filch or his tatty feline happens upon us." Sirius responded tersely, as if the answer were an obvious one.

"You mean the custodian Dumbledore mentioned at breakfast?" Lily raised an eyebrow, skeptically looking to James for answers, "Why would he concern himself with us?"

"You obviously haven't met the man." James smirked handsomely, checking that the coast was clear before slipping his hand into Lily's and pulling her further down the hallway, "Mr. Filch's greatest passion is to thwart mischief—something we took great pleasure in creating during our years at Hogwarts. You can imagine he therefore wasn't a member of our fan club. If he stumbled upon us now, he'd surely follow us—and the last thing we want to do is give away our most prized secrets."

"We'd be failing future generations of mischief-makers if we alerted Argus Filch to our ways of exiting and re-entering Hogwarts undetected." Remus reinforced, winking.

"You mean you've unearthed a secret passage in and out of the castle?" Lily whispered in admiration, earning a proud grin from James and a self-satisfied chuckle from Sirius.

"Not just _one_—four or five." Sirius bragged, pointing at a statue ahead, "And you're about to use one of them. Welcome to the inner circle of mischief makers, _Lady Everard_."

The group of four stopped in front of a large statue depicting a misshapen, hunch-backed witch with one bulging eye and a balding scalp. Lily grimaced, the grotesque stone figure an absolute eyesore compared to some of the beautiful oil paintings and Arabian textiles adorning the ancient castle. Though perturbed by the effigy, Lily leaned forward to examine a brass plate screwed into its base; it read _Gunhilda of Gorsemoor_.

"Gunhilda of Gorsemoor…wasn't she the 15th century healer who discovered the cure for dragon pox?" Lily inquired thoughtfully, squinting as she examined the witch's unnerving visage.

While James and Sirius appeared dumbfounded by Lily's knowledge—neither expecting a girl who had only discovered she was a witch a month ago to discern such things—Remus' face instantaneously lit up, "Quite right! I see you've been doing some reading since arriving at Hogwarts. Very good indeed!"

Lily smiled weakly, refraining from announcing that she had read and virtually memorized seven years' worth of History of Magic textbooks—"Yes, you could say that…where is this secret passage?"

"I'll do the honours." Remus instructed to a still-silent James and Sirius, removing his slender wand from his coat pocket. Lily observed him as he lightly tapped the top of Gunhilda's hump and mumbled "_Dissendium_"; she gasped reflexively when the hump suddenly swung open like a turtle discarding its shell to reveal a hole just large enough to squeeze a broad-shouldered man through.

"That's brilliant!" Lily whispered gleefully, stepping forward to examine the opening in the statue, "We drop down into here?"

"Yes…it slopes to form a slide and deposits us in an underground tunnel that leads into Hogsmeade." James explained quietly, acquiring the use of his vocal cords again, "The drop is quite far, and the tunnel quite narrow…are you sure you're up to it?"

"If the girl can fend off a blast-ended skrewt, she can drop down a slide." Sirius interjected peevishly, rebuking James for his over-protective nature. Smiling daringly, he whispered to Lily, "What do you think, Lils? Up for the adventure?"

"I think—for once—you've got it right." Lily replied mockingly, causing Sirius' grin to grow even larger, "Shall I go down first?"

"_No_. I'll go down first and catch you when you land." James said decisively, his tone inviting no negation as he climbed atop the statue and dropped his legs over the edge. As he prepared to fall, Lily thought he seemed suddenly cheerier, their adventure seemingly animating him: she was glad some of his apprehension concerning her well-being had been dispelled: "See you at the bottom, beautiful!"

Lily smiled as he smoothly disappeared through the opening in the witch statue. She vaguely listened to Sirius jest about appreciating James' compliment of his beauty as she climbed atop the statue and duplicated James' agile perch. Just as she was about to ask Remus if it was advisable to plummet into the dark void so quickly after James, a loud crash sounded at the end of the corridor, snapping their attention away from the passage.

"_What was that?"_ Lily peeped timidly, watching Sirius and Remus exchange a look of trepidation.

Out of the darkness, a mangy-looking cat nimbly prowled down the corridor towards them, her yellow eyes reflecting in the gloom. Sirius swore under his breath as the scabby creature neared them, meowing loudly to alert her owner to her findings.

"Well if it isn't _Mrs. Fucking Norris_." Sirius chided bellicosely, glaring daggers at the cat as if he had a personal vendetta against her, "I see you've only gotten uglier over the years, you _retched little beanbag—_"

"—_Is that you I hear, my sweet?"_

Remus and Sirius went rigid as the sound of Mr. Filch's haggard voice echoed down the unlit corridor. Judging by the echo, in less than two minutes he would stumble upon them, mid-escape.

"_Forget the bloody cat, Sirius—what do we do?" _Lily hissed as quietly as possible, her legs still dangling over the hole in the statue.

"Remus and I will find another way into Hogsmeade—we don't have enough time." Sirius murmured fanatically, Remus' eyes widening in shock as he suddenly lunged at Lily, _"Sorry about this!"_

Lily cried out in indignation as Sirius brusquely pushed her, causing her to pitch forward and free-fall down the narrow channel. As cold air whooshed past her, causing her long hair to splay upwards and the hem of dress to consume her torso, she felt the channel begin to angle, seamlessly transitioning her from plummeting to sliding. Though the journey was exhilarating, Lily breathed a sigh of relief when the slide eventually began to bottom out; however, she had built up so much speed from the ride down that when she finally reached the end, she came barrelling out of the passageway like a cannon ball. Lily could not contain a distressed scream as she was flung out of the opening at an alarming rate.

"I've got you!" Lily heard James roar valiantly, catching her body against his own. Though he was able to hook Lily against his chest upon her arrival—thereby saving her from slamming against the passageway's stone floor—the speed of her travel into his strong arms knocked him off balance, causing him to fall backwards into the flooded gangway with her still cradled against him. Whiffy water splashed up around them dramatically.

"_Sirius...bloody...pushed me._" Lily sputtered furiously, slow to push herself up off of James so she could look into his face; he looked breathless from their physical encounter, his head half-emerged in the murky water pooling around them: "Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

"Just a little winded..." James struggled to say, wriggling from beneath her to prop himself up on his elbows; he winced, thinking his ribs bruised, "Not that I don't enjoy you on top of me."

"Does your seduction know no bounds?" Lily rolled her eyes in amusement, climbing off James and helping him to sit up; though they were both covered in wet dirt, James was clearly worst for wear, filth smeared across his forehead, "You really are relentless, aren't you?"

"Look at you…all covered in mud, soaked to the bone…how am I supposed to resist that?" James joked roughly, leaning in to kiss Lily despite the throbbing pain in his chest. He was pleasantly surprised when she returned the kiss eagerly, straddling his lap and lacing her fingers into his wet hair to deepen the embrace.

"Whoa...slow down there doll, we'll have company in a moment..." James warned half-heartedly, continuing to devour Lily's soft lips despite the fact that any moment his friends were going to come shooting down the passageway and spoil their sensual moment.

"You want me to stop?" Lily pouted, planting a chaste kiss on James' neck; her teasing was getting him all riled up, which she found strangely thrilling in the less-than romantic environment.

"The very opposite actually…I'm trying to protect your honour." James crooned alluringly, a look of agony then crossing his face—either the product of his aching ribs or unfulfilled desire.

"How noble of you…come on, let's get you up." Lily chuckled affectionately, helping an injured James to his feet and brushing some of the dirt off of his face, "How can we possibly go into town now that we look like this? My dress is in ruins…"

Lily wasn't exaggerating; her once lovely dress was ripped in multiple places—including a particularly nasty tear across her abdomen—and noticeably stained due to the muddy water. Her hair was also wet and tangled—though it was less disastrous than James' chaotic mop of tresses.

"If I had known this passage was flooded, it certainly wouldn't have been my first choice." James groaned, taking in Lily's appearance and suppressing a grin, "Well, we can't waltz into the village looking like paupers…we'll have to head back up the passage once Sirius and Remus get here…_where are_ _those two?_"

"Mrs. Norris stumbled upon us just as you dropped into the passage…Sirius pushed me in and they raced to close it before Mr. Filch caught us in the act. Sirius said they'd meet us in the village shortly."

"_Great_…that means we can't go back up because Filch is likely snooping around." James heaved a mighty sigh, scratching his head, "I suppose that means we can either wait here until Filch is gone, or head into the village and see if we can't get cleaned up."

"How are we going to manage that? You didn't want us to draw any attention—_this_ will certainly earn some stares." Lily gestured toward her odd appearance, frowning.

"Have a little faith in me!" James grinned roguishly, trailing his hand over the exposed flesh on Lily's stomach; she shivered pleasurably: "I've got another trick up my sleeve."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Lily extracted her wand from her wet dress, smirking as James inquisitively watched her wield the wooden instrument, "_Lumos._"

The end of her wand suddenly burst into light, the magical glow throwing the crumbling stone walls and leaky ceiling into sharp relief. She smiled coyly, noticing James' reverence, and began to lead the way down the newly-illuminated corridor.

"You never cease to amaze me." James laughed in disbelief, shaking his head as he followed her into the passage.

* * *

After wading through a flooded stone passageway that twisted underground like a complicated rabbit's burrow for nearly an hour, Lily and James finally reached a large, dilapidated staircase that sharply ascended toward the channel's dark ceiling. Breathless, Lily watched as James proficiently located a hidden trapdoor in the ceiling—what would have been nearly impossible for a newcomer to discern. Placing a finger to his lips to compel her silence, James then slowly popped the wooden door open, peering through the crack to determine if anyone lay in wait on the other side.

"Good, the cellar is empty…watch your head on the way up." James whispered, climbing out of the passage and chivalrously helping Lily out.

Though it took Lily's eyes a minute to adjust to the muted brightness of the cellar, she could immediately distinguish that they were in a candy store, the smell of melted chocolate and syrupy bonbons bombarding her nostrils in the best of ways. She took in the appearance of the basement with subdued interest, the dusty floors and timber crates far less fascinating then the lustrously-coloured treats located in the confectionary upstairs.

"How do we get past the shopkeeper?" Lily whispered curiously, looking to James for direction, "I've met him before—I'm sure he'll recognize me if he gets a proper look."

"This is where my second trick comes in." James breathed, flashing Lily his perfect teeth as he dug into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be an old travelling cloak.

"What's that?" Lily raised a cynical eyebrow.

"Why don't you take a look?" James suggested, handing the light-weight fabric to Lily.

Lily observed the exceptional cloak carefully, admiring its intricate, Arthurian design, as well as how it rippled like water as she gently stroked it. She couldn't quite decide on its colour; it seemed to transition from maroon to amethyst to russet as it moved between her fingers. Though it appeared to be an antique, there was something strangely enduring about it, making it even more exquisite than Lily had previously surmised.

"It looks ancient…but its condition is _flawless_. Where did you get it?"

"It's an heirloom…it's been in the Potter family for as long as any of us can remember…my father passed it onto me when I turned eleven. No one is certain why it has persevered for so long." James explained poignantly, watching her examine it; his eyes sparkled impishly, "Why don't you try it on?"

Lily shrugged and threw the cloak around her frame, though she imagined it would do nothing to heighten her appearance. She twirled babyishly, attempting to earn a chuckle from James, "What do you think? Is it my colour?"

"What do _you_ think?"

Lily puckered her brow, annoyed James wasn't playing along, then looked down at her form; she inhaled precipitously, her eyes widening as she realized her body was _missing_, the magical cloak completely concealing her and blending in perfectly with their surroundings.

"This is an _invisibility cloak_, isn't it?" Lily breathed worshipfully, peeling the cloak off and wrapping it around James' shoulders to see the effect replicated; he grinned merrily, thoroughly enjoying her incredulity: "Amazing…I've read that these cloaks are supposed to be _really_ rare. They're spun from demiguise hair…"

"I'm impressed you know that." James remarked, taken aback by her knowledge once again. He pulled the cloak off of his shoulders, "I really must meet this superb tutor of yours…who is he?"

_Frank doesn't like him…what are the chances James doesn't either?_

"Let's talk about that later—are we using the cloak to sneak out of the shop?" Lily deduced, brushing aside any discussion about Snape for the time being.

"That's the plan. We'll both huddle under the cloak and sneak past Mr. Flume into the street…but we'll have to crouch down low or the cloak won't cover our shoes." James explained, pulling Lily close and tossing the cloak over their heads, "This used to be _so_ easy when I was twelve…"

"I really am getting a firsthand account of what it's like to be a Marauder." Lily whispered happily, syncing herself with James as they began to climb up another staircase leading to the main shop.

As Ambrosius Flume and his wife were busy magicking freshly made fudge into glossy cellophane packages at the back of the shop, preparing for their first customers of the day, neither noticed the basement door creek open, an invisible witch and wizard stealthily creeping across their confectionary toward the exit. They also didn't notice a bodiless arm suddenly appear out of thin air and reach into a glass jar of ice mice before suddenly disappearing again…

"_James!_" Lily chastised him, giggled as he popped the sweet into his mouth once they exited the shop, the little bell at the top of the door ringing prettily.

"I couldn't help myself." He grinned, chewing the candy happily as he led Lily down High Street, the couple still veiled by the invisibility cloak.

"Remus was right…the streets are empty." Lily commented, taking in the familiar—albeit empty—appearance of Hogsmeade's thatched cottages, warped signs and cobblestone pathways. The village seemed just as comely to her the second time around, the cloak tower glistening in the sun and thick pots of red and yellow flowers dotting storefronts.

James scoffed, mocking exasperation, "He usually _is_, the sodding intellect. Sounds like you're well on your way to giving him a run for his money, though."

Lily swelled with pride, taking his comparison as a compliment, "And you'd willingly court a _sodding intellect_?"

"We all have to make sacrifices sometimes."

As the concealed pair continued to inconspicuously wind down the flagged streets, it eventually dawned on Lily where they were headed: Gladrags' Wizardwear.

"James, Madame Gladrags knows me _too_. The last time she saw me I was with Frank." She started hesitantly, noticing James cringe at the mere mention of her fake beau, "If we both head in there together, looking the way we do, she's going to question it."

"That's not my strategy." James replied, more curtly than Lily would have liked—it was apparent he was not thrilled to hear that she and Frank had visited Hogsmeade together before, "You're going to stay under the cloak and pinch something off the racks while I distract Madame Gladrags. Use the loo at the back of the shop to clean yourself up; once you're done, knock something over to signal that you're ready to go. Sound alright?"

Lily nodded, slightly shamefaced to be tiptoeing around Madame Gladrags' dress shop like a thief. James then removed himself from underneath the cloak and opened the front door. Lily slipped in behind him, careful to get out of his way as he moved to close it.

"_Lord Potter, what an unexpected surprise!_" Madame Gladrags expressed exuberantly upon their arrival, rushing toward the door to greet him; the clothier immediately stopped in her tracks, her mouth hanging open in surprise as she absorbed his dishevelled appearance, "_Merlin_, what has happened to you, my lord?!"

"Ah yes…I'm afraid I had a bit of an accident with my carriage on the way into the village. I had hoped you could help me get straightened out—I'd hate to be caught looking like this by one of those silly _Prophet_ photographers." James replied convincingly, flashing Madame Gladrags a disarming smile.

"You've come to the right place!" Madam Gladrags announced jauntily, the plump woman swiftly locking the door behind him, "I'll lock up so you can have my full attention. What can I show you today? Are you looking for a more casual look, or perhaps a pant suit?"

Lily watched as James lead Madame Gladrags toward a rack of finely-pressed suits, thereby providing her with ample berth to cross the store and submerge herself in the ladies' apparel section. Careful to be discreet, Lily began to peruse the racks, looking for any dress that was in her size. She grabbed the first one she stumbled upon, uncaring of how fashionable it was—an indigo-coloured day dress with yellow trim and oversized buttons. Quickly stuffing it beneath the cloak, she headed for the lavatory at the back of the store.

Once she closed the door behind her, Lily quickly went to work on herself, pulling off the invisibility cloak and turning on the silver-plated facet. Unsure of where to begin, she wiped the grim from her face and hair and slipped out of her spoiled dress, discarding it in the corner of the pristine restroom. She did her best to fix her gradually-curling hair into an acceptable up-do—something she had relied on Mimi to accomplish up until that point—then pulled on the dress she had nicked from the shelves. Relieved her make-up was still relatively intact, Lily took one final look at herself in the mirror before throwing the cloak back over her head and exiting.

When Lily re-entered the main room, she found James balanced atop a pedestal in front of the store's main display mirrors, looking a whole new man. Dressed in a crisp new suit, his unmanageable hair styled and his face tidy, he was being circled by Madam Gladrags, who was skilfully hemming the sleeves of his jacket and bottom of his pants with her wand. Lily rolled her eyes in amusement, thinking he looked quite comfortable being fawned over.

"I've heard the Hogwarts Gala was a smashing success the other night…did you attend, Lord Potter?" Madame Gladrags chit-chatted as she worked on customizing his expensive attire.

"No, I'm afraid not. I had some business that kept me away." James replied flawlessly, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves, "Lord Dumbledore always puts on quite the show…I'm sure it was a remarkable event."

"Perhaps you've already heard, but Lord Dumbledore's niece, Lady Aurora Rockford, debuted at the Gala." Madam Gladrags gossiped cheerfully, causing Lily's ears to burn, "Such a beautiful young witch…have you happened to make her acquaintance, Lord Potter?"

Lily watched James grin clandestinely, "Funny you should ask; I'm about to go meet up with her and a few friends for a drink. I encountered her earlier in the summer."

"How lovely!" Madam Gladrags exclaimed, her cheeks rosy with glee, "You know, I only just met her myself—she buys almost all of her clothing from me. Do you not think her a pretty girl?"

Lily wasn't sure how, but as James looked up into the mirror his chocolate eyes seemed to find her concealed location; he smiled impishly in her direction, "She is quite possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

Her face bloomed like a flower, James' romantic profession making her heart flutter irregularly. Madam Gladrags cooed gladly, apparently receiving the answer she had hoped for, "You know, I think you and she would have made for a famous couple, Lord Potter. A pity you did not meet her before Lord Longbottom did."

Lily suppressed a groan as she watched James harden, once again reminded of her faux relationship with Frank Longbottom. Though the clothier did not notice his sudden change in mood, Lily could certainly distinguish his aggravation, his once playful eyes losing their patina.

_Perhaps I shouldn't tell him that Frank kissed me…_

"I doubt that _Lord Longbottom_ will be able to hold Lady Rockford's attentions for much lo—"

Lily hurriedly tipped over a large vase of cerise roses that were arranged at the check-out counter, causing the vase to explode in a show of terracotta and puncture James' speech. Madame Gladrags shrieked, distracted from James as she hastened to charm the vase back into one piece.

"I apologize, Lord Potter—I'm not sure why the vase leapt off the counter like that!"

"It's no trouble." James mumbled, the smashed décor his cue that Lily was ready to depart, "I best get be on my way so I'm not late for my next appointment. Thank you for your help today, Madam Gladrags"

Without a second glance, James plunked an enormous bag of glittering galleons onto the check-out counter and headed for the door. Lily watched as Madam Gladrag's eyes swelled to the size of saucers; she spilled the coins onto the polished surface and gasped, "But Lord Potter, your suit didn't cost _nearly_ this much!"

"Consider it a tip for your excellent service." James replied suavely, holding open the door as he flashed the shopkeeper one more beguiling smile. Realizing that he was waiting for her to make her inconspicuous exit, Lily quickly brushed past him and plunged into the street, secretly pleased that James had thought to pay Madam Gladrags for her dress as well.

Once he had shut the door behind them, Lily watched as he discreetly headed down the lane—which was now sparsely strewn with shoppers—and ducked into an alley that blotted out his location. Curious as to what his plan was, Lily turned down the backstreet in hot pursuit of him, eventually finding him loitering near its dead-end.

"Time to take off the cloak, my dear." James directed charmingly, folding his arms as he awaited her advent.

"Are you ordering me to _disrobe_, Lord Potter?" Lily returned mockingly, circling him: she was having a devilishly good time, sneaking about in her magical camouflage.

"_Saucy little minx_." James clucked his tongue, reproaching her for her unjust teasing, "Flout me for much longer and I'll have to take it off of you myself…something I will take _great_ pleasure in."

"Now who's being cheeky?" Lily questioned idly, smirking as she pulled off the cloak and pressed it into James' hands, "I look forward to using this again…perhaps you can lend it to me?"

"Not a chance." James taunted light-heartedly, folding up the antique silk and slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket. When he noticed Lily's cleaned-up appearance he whistled, causing her to roll her eyes in amusement, "You look lovely—I _suppose_ I can withstand being discovered in your company now…"

"Hey!" Lily yelped, poking James between the ribs; he chuckled, swatting her hand away.

"Let's go find Sirius and Remus—something tells me they went straight to the pub." James ribbed merrily.

Before they exited the alleyway, James scanned the street, checking to ensure that no one nearby would notice their departure from the rather questionable backstreet. Once he was convinced their entrance would go unnoticed, he cracked a smile and formally offered his arm to Lily, "Ready to masquerade about Hogsmeade with me, _Lady Rockford_?"

"_If I must_." Lily taunted vivaciously, allowing him to escort her into the open air.

* * *

It wasn't long into their stroll into the hub of Hogsmeade that Lily and James encountered the ever-mischievous Sirius Black. Their luck at going all but unnoticed by morning pedestrians seemed to instantly expire once his boisterous presence singled them out.

"_There you two bloody are!_" Sirius exclaimed dramatically, nearly sending the door of Zonko's Joke Shop flying off its hinges as he burst into the street, his arms cradling brown paper bags overflowing with an assortment of strange items. Lily raised a brow when she noticed an inflatable tongue poking out, "Remus and I practically did a loop around the village waiting for you to show up!"

James frowned as the faces of people passing by turned toward them inquisitively. He laboured to keep his cool and refrain from berating Sirius for his rashness: "It's a long story; tell you over drinks. What's all of this rubbish?"

"_Rubbish_?" Sirius snapped, regarding his best friend as the worst of blasphemers, "This is _high quality_ prank product, Potter! You and I made a career out of dungbombs and Dr. Fillibuster's fireworks! Shame on you…"

James rolled his eyes, though Lily watched their exchange in amusement: "That may be true, but we already own half of that shop…isn't this overkill? As you may also recall, we are no longer students at Hogwarts."

"One bag is for me, and one bag is for _Aurora_." Sirius retorted, earning a gleeful exclamation from Lily, "Now that she is living at Hogwarts, it is up to her to exact revenge on that _twaddle of a tomcat_ intent on ruining my life."

"It would be my pleasure!" Lily answered giddily, itching to thumb through the contents of the shopping bag, "Although I think you give Mrs. Norris a bit too much credit…"

"I loathe cats."

"You really shouldn't encourage him. Sirius is liable to land you in Dumbledore's bad books." James warned Lily, though his attempt at dissuading any bad behaviour was lackadaisical.

"No more than you are, Lord Potter." Lily pointed out coyly, turning toward Sirius, "So where has Remus gotten to?"

"He's waiting for us at the Three Broomsticks. Let's head over there now—I'm dying for a butterbeer."

As Lily followed Sirius and James down the rue, she observed that customers and shopkeepers alike had paused to watch them. James and Sirius appeared unruffled by the attention; Lily attempted to mirror their air of triviality, conscious of appearing like she belonged in their regal presence. It was difficult for her not to squirm under the inspection of so many curious bystanders.

"_Isn't that Dumbledore's niece?"_

"_I heard she wore a dress made of diamonds to the Hogwarts Gala!"_

"_What's she doing with Lord Potter and Lord Black?"_

"_I heard she's courting—"_

"Try not to let them get to you." James murmured in her ear, holding her arm tighter within his own as he caught a glimpse of her strained facial expression, "You'll get used to the whispers."

"All a part of high society I'm afraid." Sirius added, stepping forward to open the heavy door of a slightly crooked building, "Here we are—_ladies first_."

The Three Broomsticks was much more comfortable than Lily expected. Upon arriving, she immediately felt like she had entered the cozy home of a cherished friend; the front room was crowded with dark chairs and tables, while the bar near the back of the room was encumbered with half-empty glass bottles and polished pewter tankards. The space was warmly lit, a smoky haze seemingly hovering above the mostly-empty seats, and it smelled of rich cinnamon and red current rum. It seemed a traditional English tavern in every way—though Lily noticed the mugs at the bar appeared to be magically wiping themselves down, and the leaves on the thick ivy that coiled around the room's wooden beams appeared to be dancing gaily. It wasn't a posh public house by any means—which added to the reason Lily loved it so much.

Nestled quietly at a booth near the back of the pub was Remus Lupin, his eyes acutely trained on a black-and-white newspaper. He greeted Lily, James and Sirius blithely when they joined him, immediately passing the wrinkled tabloid to James: "Remember when you made Padfoot promise not to land Aurora on the front page of the _Prophet_?"

Lily and Sirius craned their necks to read the paper over James' shoulder; they exchanged an uneasy look when their eyes scanned the front page headline:

_**Break-In at the Ministry of Magic has Minister Mystified**__  
Andy Smudgely, Investigative Reporter_

_Whitehall – The Ministry of Magic has been impenetrable to break-ins by kleptomaniacal wizards and creatures alike for more than one hundred and fifty years—that is, until two days ago._

_When Ministry of Magic custodial workers arrived on Monday morning to prepare for the influx of workers normally expected to floo through the building's fireplaces at the beginning of each week, they found the place in ruins. As Reginald Cattermore reports, the Ministry's atrium was flooded with water and the famed Fountain of Magical Brethren had been disgracefully maimed:_

"_I could 'ardy believe me eyes when I first got 'n…I wus standing in nearly a foot o' water, right up to me knees…a big 'ole had been blown in one o' the walls…'ere was debris everywhere." Cattermore explained, appearing visibly traumatized by the sight, "And ter boot, the 'ead of the fountain's centaur 'ad been severed clean off 'is neck!"_

_It is clear that this bizarre display of vandalism has the Department of Magical Law Enforcement thoroughly puzzled. Minister for Magic, Lord Faris Spavin, reported during a press conference that aside from the damage done to the building's foyer, nothing appears to have been tampered with or taken. When asked whether or not he believes that dark wizards were involved in the incident, Lord Spavin had this to say: _

"_The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has no reason to suspect that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or any of his misguided followers have anything to do with this happening. We believe this is the work of small-minded delinquents who—by fluke—entered the Ministry of Magic on a day when our security system had not been properly activated—"_

"_Small-minded delinquents?!_" Sirius interrupted vociferously, slamming his fist down on the table; James glared at him: "Somehow I doubt that a bunch of _senseless teenagers_ could easily overcome a hoard of blast-ended skrewts and a bloody _monsoon._ Not activated_ my arse!_"

"I'd like to second that!" Lily added indignantly, unconsciously scratching one of her nearly-healed burns.

"Don't take it personally—clearly they are trying to downplay the incident to save face." Remus explained, taking the paper back from James.

"I have a feeling Moody had a hand in this—likely fed the Minister faulty intelligence about the security system not having been triggered in order to avoid a formal investigation. The debacle will likely be pinned on that uppity Ministry official who set up my fireplace last night—_Louisa Edgecomb_." James surmised, feeling slightly guilty for her bad luck.

"_Well if it isn't my three favourite patrons._"

Lily's attention turned to the curvy woman confidently sidling up to their table. She had crimped blonde hair and warm hazel eyes which regarding James, Sirius and Remus with gratuitous affection. Lily guessed she was fifteen years their senior, for though her smile glowed with youth, lines had begun to form around the edges of her eyes and across her forehead. Apparently this difference in age did nothing to dissuade the boys from perking up in her presence, her racy neckline enough to evoke their devotion.

"Looking _lovely_ as ever, Madam Rosmerta." Sirius cooed charismatically, swooping on the bartender's hand to bestow a kiss, "I'm still waiting for your answer concerning my marriage proposal…you've kept me waiting since fifth year, you know! A man can only pine for so long."

Rosmerta dissolved into raucous laughter, her cheeks flushing pink; Lily stifled a jealous eye-roll: "I'm sure your family would be _thrilled_ with the match, Lord Black. Me, a _lowly_ bar-owner who's probably old enough to be your—well, let's say _sister_."

"_To hell with my family!_ You're gorgeous and you make a _mean_ butterbeer—you're practically the perfect woman."

"You'll have to pardon him today, Rosmerta. He's a little high-strung after a visit to Zonko's." James interjected easily, exuding charm as he flashed her a mesmeric smile, "I'd like to introduce to you Lady Aurora Rockford, Dumbledore's niece."

As Rosmerta's surprised eyes befell her, some of her forbearance seemed to dissipate, replaced with what Lily perceived as apprehension: "Lady Rockford…so kind of you to visit my humble tavern. Your uncle has not stopped by in a long while…I hope everything is still to his liking. Might I bring you a drink?"

"I'm sure it is—your bar is remarkably warm and welcoming." Lily replied kindly, unsure of why the friendly barkeep betrayed her nature to address her so ceremoniously, "A drink would be nice after the journey into the village."

"Right—let's have four butterbeers, Rosmerta." James ordered promptly, attempting to dispel the formality, "Extra foam on mine, if you please."

"Yes, Lord Potter: I remember your order." The bartender smiled alluringly, her supple hips swaying as she sauntered back toward the bar to fill their steins; the boys watched her departure enthusiastically.

Lily frowned, "Should I order some extra napkins so the three of you can wipe the _drool_ off of your faces?"

"I don't know what you mean…" James immediately spurned, colour rising to his cheeks.

Rosmerta returned to their table shortly after with four silver tankards of velvety butterbeer. As the boys struck up a conversation with the magnetic woman, Lily examined her beverage, sniffing it experimentally before eventually relenting to try it. Just as she was about to exclaim how she had never tasted a more flavoursome drink, Rosmerta turned to her and remarked casually: "I must say, that was _quite_ the dress you wore the other night, Lady Rockford. If it wasn't for that Ministry break-in, you undoubtedly would have made the front page…though I suppose _page 2_ of the _Prophet_ is nothing to scoff at."

Two patrons suddenly walked into the bar, drawing Rosmerta away from their table. James brusquely turned to pry the newspaper out of Remus' hands; however, Sirius had already snatched it up and spread it open to page 2.

_High Society's Newest 'It Girl'—Lady Aurora Rockford_

Lily balked, horrified to see that an entire page had been devoted to a _moving_ picture of she and Dumbledore at the Hogwarts Gala. The photographer had snapped their arm-and-arm entrance into the Dining Hall; they wore tight, formal smiles, the finely-dressed crowd surrounding them clapping and staring. Beside the picture on page 3 was a lengthy article seemingly dedicated to her.

"Well apparently _Aurora_ doesn't need my help to make the paper—she's bloody _monopolizing_ it at this point." Sirius whined, though a grin mushroomed across his face, "She's on page 1, page 2, page 3…"

"_Would you belt up already?_ Read it out loud, I can't see it from this angle—"

"You're being quite contradictory, Prongs—"

"_Sirius._" Lily hissed in warning, straining to read the article.

"OK, OK!" Sirius threw his hands up in defeat, huffing melodramatically.

_**High Society's Newest 'It Girl'—Lady Aurora Rockford  
**__Betty Braithwaite, Society Correspondent _

_Hogsmeade – Magical Society has a new 'It Girl', and you won't believe who she is related to. _

_Lady Aurora Rockford, cherished niece of none other than Lord Albus Dumbledore—Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Headmaster of Hogwarts—debuted on her uncle's arm at the Hogwarts Gala on Sunday. Wearing a purple dress designed by couturiers in Paris, Lady Rockford's surprise introduction dazzled party-goers, most of whom were unaware that Lord Dumbledore had a niece. _

"_We were all shocked to learn of Lady Aurora Rockford—no one had heard of her until her grand entrance." Lady Laurentia Fletwock—6__th__ year Hogwarts student—explained to reporters zealously, "The only person aside from Headmaster Dumbledore who seemed to know of her was Lord Longbottom."_

_To the great disappointment of many lords at the party, it instantly became apparent that Lady Rockford was courting society-favourite Lord Frank Longbottom, sole heir to the Longbottom estate. Several guests have reported that the couple spent the entire evening dancing together and very rarely left one-another's sides. When reporters caught up with Lady Augusta Longbottom as she was leaving the Gala, she had this to say when asked if Lady Rockford and Lord Longbottom were romantically connected:_

"_I can confirm that they are indeed courting—my son was one of the first people Lady Rockford met when she first arrived in London at the beginning of the summer. Though their romance is young, it is clear they are already very fond of one another—"_

"—_I think we get the point, Sirius_." Lily interjected desperately, yanking the paper out from between Sirius' fingers and setting it aside: James was scowling so hard at the crumpled newsprint that she thought it might burst into flames, taking down the entire pub with it, "Please tell me I won't have to put up with this rubbish all the time…"

"This is only the beginning." James murmured, taking a large gulp of his butterbeer and staring daggers at the floor. She sighed.

* * *

Lily was comfortably nestled by the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room, the naughty Zonko's items Sirius had purchased for her spread across the surface of the coffee table before her. She wearily picked through each item, her initial excitement concerning the goods gradually diminishing due to the late hour.

James, Sirius and Remus had dropped her off at the castle before heading off to an Order meeting around mid-afternoon, thereby abandoning her to her own anxiety. Lily had rejected her dinner, too apprehensive to eat, and hadn't the patience or focus to read in order to help pass the time, preoccupied with thoughts of Dumbledore berating her for secretly appealing to Professor Snape for Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons.

_If Dumbledore tells me I can't learn Defense, how am I going to defeat Voldemort?_

As the mantelpiece clock began to methodically chime, indicating that 10:00PM had arrived, the portrait of the Fat Lady concurrently swung open with a **swoosh**, revealing the silvery form of Lord Dumbledore. Lily climbed to her feet as he approached her spot near the fire, a peaceful smile warming his withered face.

"Good evening, my dear. I'm sorry to have kept you up waiting—our gathering ran longer than I had originally anticipated." The old wizard explained cordially, settling into a claret-coloured chair as Lily curled up on the couch, "I see you've had a productive day?"

Lily cracked an uneasy smile: "Sirius is determined that I exact revenge on Filch's cat on his behalf…though I suppose I shouldn't be telling the headmaster that."

"I'll pretend I didn't see the paraphernalia…after all, you aren't an official student at Hogwarts, and therefore do not have to prescribe to Mr. Filch's _banned items_ list." Dumbledore said kindly, fixing his wilted hands in his lap, "Alas, this leads me to our main topic of discussion."

"…Oh yes?" Lily managed weakly, her pulse quickening as she prepared to be disciplined.

_Why do I always have such a difficult time following the rules?_

"How would you like to be an official Hogwarts student?"

Lily blinked in response. The fire snapped pleasantly.

* * *

Author's Notes

I've hit 3,000 reviews! That's so exciting! A big thank you to all of my faithful readers and reviewers; I'm so amazed that you stick around despite my rather…_er_…prolonged posts.

Also a big thank you to the 123 fans who have joined my Petal in the Rain Facebook page—you guys are awesome! I hope you enjoyed my little previews of this chapter! If you haven't already, please join my Facebook page to receive exclusive content. It's also a great place to berate me for my lack of updates! The Facebook page is called **"Petal in the Rain" by pratty-prongs-princesse**.

Lastly, the fans who post on tumblr about my story—ya'll are the bee's knees! Please keep it up!

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter as much as I did! Please review my pretties ;)

Lots of love,

pratty-prongs-princesse

PS, Lily is going to Hogwarts…no big deal?


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